The two bounty hunters seemed oblivious to the beautiful afternoon. They had been out on the open range for over a month tracking down two small time bank robbers. "Skeeter" Bill Howard had his reins wrapped around his saddle horn, his hands pulled in the sleeves of his duster, hoping Buck wouldn't notice his hands. They hadn't stopped shaking since the violent shoot-out the previous day. They managed to corner the outlaws in a box canyon, thinking with no way out they would surrender, avoiding a gun fight. Both Buck and Skeeter Bill hadn't planned on what happened. Both outlaws rushed them, guns blazing. It took three .44-40 slugs from Bill's rifle to take Jack Nowlan down, and the other man known only as the "Big Swede" took both barrels from Buck's Greener before stopping. You OK, Buck asked? Bill just nodded his head. Guess I'm just tired, that's all. We've been in open country for quite a spell. Buck reached into his duster pocket and took out a leather cigar holder. Care for a cigar, he asked Bill? No thanks, maybe later when we get to town. I've been thinking , Buck said as he cut the end off a cigar. Cracking a match on the saddle horn, he took a few puffs and looked over at Bill. Maybe we should spend some time in town and take a break for a couple of weeks. With the bounty money and what we get from the horses and trappin's we will be set for a spell. Bill hadn't had a drink in weeks and the thought of town living sounded good to him. Sounds good, lets do it then, Bill said. They rode on in silence, the only sound was the dull plodding of the horse's hooves. A hour or so later they spotted a sign along the road, Copper Moon, one mile. Bill breathed a sigh of relief. Almost there, he thought to himself. He looked back at their pack horses, followed by the two outlaw's horses; two bodies wrapped in tarps lashed head down over the saddles. Think we'll get the usuall reception when we ride in, Bill asked? Probably, Buck replied. We'll know in a few minutes. The town soon appeared on the horizon. As they rode down the main  several people stopped what they were doing and stared at the two riders. Two old men were playing checkers and one whispered "Bounty Killers" to the other. The other old man adjusted his glasses. Murderin' suns-a-bitches, he murmered. As they rode past Buck looked over at Bill. Usual reception; they don't want killers and thief's in their towns, but they don't want us either. I'll take the bodies over ot the sheriff's and put thhe horses up at the livery. Why don't you get us a couple of hotel rooms? That place down the street dosen't look too bad. We can sell their stuff tomorrow. I'll meet you at the bar, Bill said. I need a drink! Bill go toff his horse and handed the reins to Buck. He watched Buck ride away. He wondered how he was going to tell him he was through. Th ewar had been over for better than fifteen years now and Bill had seen enough killinng for a lifetime. He walked into the lobby of the hotel and was greeted by the clerk. Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon to you too, Bill said. I'd like two rooms. We wil probably need them for a week, or more. That's not a problem, we have lots of vacancies at the moment. Please sign the register. Bill signed the book and the clerk handed him two keys. Second floor, down the right. Where's the bar, Bill asked? To your left, then right. Much obliged, Bill replied. The place was practically empty. The bartender was busy cleaning glasses. What will it be, he asked? Whiskey; I'll take a whole bottle. As Bill started walking to a table he saw a man sitting in the corner with a half-empty bottle in front of him. The man slowly lifted his head and looked in Bill's direction. The man looked at Bill for a moment and lowered his head. I know him from somewhere, Bill thought to himself, just can't place where from. He got up and walked back to the bar. Who is that man sitting over there, he asked the bartender? I think I know him from somewhere. That's Daniel Roberts, the bartender replied. His wife and daughter were murdered over a month ago. The sheriff's posse never did catch up to the murdering bastards. Daniel's been in here most of the time drunk. Dosen't even seem to care about his store or nothing. Bill turned and slowly walked over to the table. Cap'n Daniel? Daniel slowly lifter his head. Who are you mister, and what do you want? Cap'n Daniel it's me - Bill Howard. I served in your company during the war. Daniel rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Bill - Skeeter Bill??? Daniel tried to stand, but fell back into his chair. He extended his right hand and shook hands with Bill. I'm kind of in a hard way right now. I know, Bill said. I talked with the bartender. Said your family was murdered. Daniel just shook his head. The sheriff and the posse tracked them for a while, but gave up too soon. I was going to go after them myself, but I'm gettin' too old. Don't know what I'm going to do now. Several thoughts raced through Bill's mind at once. He remembered Daniel's leadership during the war and how countless men owed their lives to his skill and leadership, including Bill himself. He gritted his teeth and said, I think I know somebody that can help you. I partnered up with a man a couple of years ago. I mostly swamp camp, tend the horses, and occasionally guard prisoners. The man I'm talking about is the best of the best bounty hunter.