About This Book
Join the fun. Ride along with Jesse and Frank James and the Younger brothers as they share in the adventures of The Lone Jack Kid. This was wartime and men lived and died fighting their enemy . . . and sometimes they died fighting each other. Cole looked at the men, raised his hand, and said in a voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, "Don't do it, boys. Sturman was a yellow cur, and a deserter, and you don't have to die trying to avenge the likes of him. There were seven Indians and they were standing around two semi-naked white women who appeared to be a mother and daughter. Charlie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he aimed - - and fired, and fired, and fired again, repeatedly. He dropped four of the Indians before they knew what hit them. Then he charged into the clearing and shot another Indian reaching for his gun. "My name is Charles Longstreet." The men looked at each other as recognition set in. "You're the Lone Jack Kid?" The Kid smiled. "The one and only." He pulled his hat off of his head and waved it in the air, then he gave the Rebel yell. "See you money grubbers in hell, boys." He jerked the reins, and nudged Comet with his heals. She turned her head and leaped into the bubbling stream with water as high as the stirrups, and dashed across, splashing tendrils of water high in the air on both sides of her. It was an impressive display of horsemanship, and the toll collectors watched with grudging admiration.
