They hit the payroll, catching them in a crossfire as they came into Horseshoe Canyon on their way to pay the miners at the Atlas Coal Mine in Wayne. There were only two guns protecting it and Morris and Holly picked one off each from their perches across the canyon. The two men leading the packhorses tried to flee, but they shot the horses out from under them and then had to scramble to their own mounts to catch up with the fleeing payroll. That they did, intercepting the stampeding horses before they could scamper up the narrow and winding trail that led from the canyon to the plains above.
When they had calmed the panicked animals they left the canyon behind, heading up into the hills to the north where they had a camp set up. There they watered the horses and set them loose to eat and counted their day’s earnings. They were giddy as they went through the coins and the well-creased bills, over two hundred fifty dollars worth. They could sell the two pack horses too and probably get close to three hundred when it was all said and done. Holly whooped and danced, kissing Morris and pulling at his beard.
He laughed in joy at her delight. “No more worries for awhile, Holly dear.”
“No more worries, Morris honey,” she said and pulled him to his feet to join in her dance.
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