THE GRINGO LEGION
Moses Patch gave it some thought, the moonlight slanting across his villainous old face highlighting every crease, wrinkle, scar and malformation. He was one of those men who looked every bit as evil as he was.
“Reckon not,” he said at length. “Why, Bull?”
McKeeson was smiling. “If they wipe out the Texans, which seems more than a possibility, they might just be content with takin’ scalps and leavin’ the gold.”
“They might.” Patch came dangerously close to smiling as he looked toward the mesa again. “Hey, Bull, I reckon this is the first time I’ve ever rooted for the Injuns!”