Description
SLOCUM WAS OUT OF THE FRYING PAN AND INTO THE FIRE. Zaragosa was almost a ghost town: buildings ravaged by fire, the few people still alive struck dumb with terror, the undertaker the only happy citizen. It was as if a plague had swept through Zaragosa. But then one morning, the Longmont gang rode in, and Slocum understood. It was no longer a question of saving his own skin. He had no choice but to stand and fight.