The Good, the Bad, and the Naughty

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Foul curses rose in the early-evening air, breaking the silence that echoed in James Sanford’s ears. With each step he came closer to the saloon, it turned into a cacophony as several voices rose in unison near him.

He glanced behind him at Trevor Kent, his partner and friend, and lifted his brow and shoulders, mouthing, “Do we have the right place?”

This certainly didn’t seem like it.

For most of their trip from the train station to the saloon, he and Trevor had been quiet. They weren’t much for conversation, especially when they hadn’t had time to rest in the past few days. But because they were Texas Rangers, it came with the territory.

During their last case, they had to stake out an Indian tribe they suspected of harboring a couple of notorious outlaws. It was a miracle if they slept more than five hours a day.

Being in their profession for over five years now, they had become accustomed to the erratic work schedules and the stress, both physically and mentally.

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