The well-dressed man approached the woman in gray jauntily, tipping his bowler derby in greeting.

"Good morning, Ms. Karl."

The sound of a pistol cocking beneath her coat returned his greeting. "Get away from me, Nicodemus," the Ranger hissed. "Slow and easy."

He smiled darkly. "Why madam, I had no idea that gentility was so out of fashion."

"Don’t play me the fool, huckster. We both know what you and your family are up to, and it has nothing to do with wishing a lady good morning." She leaned in close. "You’re playing with fire, Nicodemus. You and that twisted clan you hold allegiance to."

Nicodemus Whateley’s smile grew larger. "Then by all means, my dear, stop us, if you can."

"I will. Have no doubt of that. Meantime, if you come near me or any of my men again, I’ll shoot you and string your body up for the buzzards."

He laughed. "If that’s the case, then I haven’t a thing to worry about. The buzzards are some of my closest friends."

He tipped his hat again and continued sauntering down the street. She waited until he was out of sight before surreptitiously holstering her gun.