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Informationen zum Autor A Simon & Schuster author. Klappentext Former marshal Dale Cooper hires John Locke to ride shotgun as he delivers a payroll shipment to a Montana mining camp. But the disillusioned Cooper can't convince Locke to steal the payroll with him, forcing Locke to protect the money and make sure his old friend doesn't become an outlaw himself. Original. Chapter One Ellsworth, Kansas 1877 John Locke looked out the window of his hotel room and saw his friend, Marshal Dale Cooper, standing in the street -- alone. Cooper hesitated in front of his office, took a deep breath, adjusted his gun belt, and then stepped into the street. "This is not going to happen," Locke said. He turned, grabbed his gun belt from the bedpost, and left the room, still strapping it on. He wanted to get down to the street before Cooper could get very far. As he came out the front door, almost at a run, he saw his friend walking down the street with a purposeful stride. "Coop!" He hit the street running and caught up to his friend, who turned to look at him as Locke grabbed his arm. His jaw was set, and his eyes were steely. He looked grim. "John," Cooper said. "What are you doing here?" "Same thing you are." "I'm wearin' a badge," Cooper said. "I have to be here. It's my job. You don't." "I'm not letting you do this alone, Coop," Locke said. "It's as simple as that." Cooper stared at his friend, then took a deputy's badge from his pocket and held it out. "No," Locke said, holding up his hand. "Let's just do it." Cooper put the badge away and shook his head. "I'm gettin' too old for this, John." "You're not even fifty yet." "I'm forty-eight." "See?" "Forty-eight seem a good age to die to you?" "I'm forty-one, Dale," Locke said, "and that doesn't seem a good age to die." "At the other end of this street are going to be five cowboys," Cooper said. "They're all going to be wearing guns. Do you know what that means?" "Yes," Locke said. "It means they're cowboys wearing guns when they're more used to holding a lariat. It means that when we reach them, they will officially be outnumbered." Cooper thought that over, then nodded and said, "That's one way of looking at it." Locke slapped the lawman on the back and said, "That's the only way to look at it, my friend." ? ? ? Turnback Creek, Montana As John Locke rode into the mining town of Turnback Creek, Montana, he realized it had been more than ten years since he had last seen Dale Cooper. That debacle in Ellsworth with the cowboys. It had cost Cooper his job as marshal, and after that, Locke had pretty much lost track of his friend. If he'd taken to wearing a badge somewhere else, Locke had never heard about it. Then, out of the blue, last week Locke received a telegram in Las Vegas, New Mexico, from Cooper, asking him to meet him in Turnback Creek. Their friendship was such that, even after all the years of silence, Locke left immediately. The town looked fairly typical -- ramshackle buildings, badly rutted streets filled with water after several days of unrelenting rain. It was falling now, the rain, in a misty drizzle. Locke's shirt and jeans were soaked, his leather vest wet. He wanted some dry clothes and a hot meal even before he tried to find Dale Cooper. The telegram had been cryptic, just a line asking Locke to meet him. Didn't say where he was staying or where to find him. But locating Cooper was going to have to wait until he got situated and dry. He came to a hotel before he came to a livery, so he stopped to get a room. "Do you know a man named Cooper?" he asked the clerk as he signed the register. "Dale Cooper?" "Dale Cooper?" the young man repeated thoughtfully. "Can't say I do, sir." Before returning the...
