Gabe sat atop his stallion holding the still smoking rifle. “Blasted snakes,” he muttered as he searched the road for more. There had to be more, he was certain of it, and he’d shoot every last one of them if he had to.

He turned to the nearest carriage. His uncle had opened the door and stuck his head out. Gabe waved his hand in the air. “All is well now, Uncle. I just shot a rattler who had gotten in my path.”

“Thank the Lord you saw the snake before he could strike.”

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