Chapter One: The Law Man

Eugene Brigham Hayes stepped off the ferry into the small town of Blackwater. He was dressed impeccably in a well tailored dark gray suit and slouch hat. His face was youthful but confident, the look of a man who was clearly moving up in his life and was enjoying every bit of it.

Hayes was a rising star in the Bureau. At only 26, he had been behind the arrests of numerous criminals and former outlaws. He was smart and clever and humble, a rare thing in the Bureau. He was also ambitious, which helped. The nickname of the 'fox' had arisen around him and he enjoyed it, knowing the title was only helping him.

He waited, absentmindedly tipping his hat to passerby's. A car pulled up and man dressed just like a Bureau man got out. He was a short man, someone who seemed more used to desk work than anything else. He walked up to Hayes and extended his hand.

"Mr. Hayes I presume?" Eugene nodded and took the hand, a the man continued. "Tom Mason, Blackwater Office. Here to collect you for my boss. He told me to apologize for not coming himself, busy meeting some of the other new arrivals."

Again, Eugene nodded. "Not surprised, and certainly not offended. Busy man. Who's the new arrival?"

"John Hart, on loan from the Marshals."

"John Hart? You sure?" Eugene was surprised. He had heard of Hart, or rather his reputation. The man was famous as an outlaw hunter. He had been active since 1885, and was to be feared by any who would break the law.

"Sure as can be Mr. Hayes." Tom replied as they hopped into the car, and started off. The steady pace set up a nice, cooling breeze. "I've seen his picture before and it was him, I'd bet my life on it."

"I'll be." Hayes said, and settled in. The car had been more of a sign of status. The Bureau Office had been close enough to walk to, easily. The two got out and went outside, past a clerk who was too busy counting something to pay the pair too much attention at all.

Tom led him to a door, marked simply "A. Fordham." the glass had been made impossible to see through, though Hayes could make out shapes behind the glass. Tom nocked twice, and waited.

"Come on in." came a reply, and Tom opened the door, holding it open for Hayes, who nodded his thanks and entered.

Two men were in the office, standing to greet him. The one behind the desk, Mr. Fordham, was tall and well built, with a hard face and a nose that reminded Hayes of a boxer's. He was wearing a suit, though without the coat. A shoulder holster held a Cattleman revolver, an old Army 1873, chambered for the .45. His suit was simple, and not horridly expensive, probably an effort to make him look more like the people he was protecting. His temples were already graying. Hayes judged him to be in his late 30's to early 40's.

The next man was different. He was neither tall nor thin. His hair was longer than normal, and a steely gray, like his thick mustache. He was 55, Hayes knew, though physically, he could outfight any man more than half his age. His suit was nice, but a much older style, a prairie brown, and Hayes suspected that it was rarely worn. A large, flat hat of a matching color sat easily on his head.

John Hart's face was creased and lined. His eyes, or rather his eye, for the left was covered by an eye patch, had crows feet at the corners, earned from a life of squinting in the distance. They were a steely, angry gray, the color of storm clouds.

He nodded lightly to Hayes, and offered his hand. "John Hart. You must be Mr. Hayes. Heard lot about you."

Hayes took the hand, and shook it, matching the rough steely grip as best he could. It was like a damn bear trap. Hart looked him in the eye, and nodded very lightly, impressed with what he had found it seemed.

Hayes turned to Fordham and the two introduced themselves. Fordham motioned for the two men to sit, and they did. Fordham slumped into the seat. "Well, Mr. Hayes, do you know the situation?"

Hayes nodded. "Yes. An outlaw murdered a bunch of other men in the town of Armadillo. Apparently this man was also behind a number of other crimes, mainly old style robberies."

Fordham nodded. "Yes. It was pretty high profile. Right there in the tavern, just gunned them down."

"Who'd he kill?" Hart asked, his voice like gravel being swished around in a bucket.

"A couple of members of the Walton Gang, local gro-"

"Murderer killed other murderers?"

Fordham nodded, sighing.

"So why do we really care? Really." Hart asked.

"Because this is a civilized land, Mr. Hart. And we'll not tolerate things like this." Fordham replied, hotly.

"But you'll tolerate an entire gang who do things like this?" Now Hart sounded cold, angry. Fordham glared at him. Hayes wisely settled further into his seat and away from the pair. While in terms of loyalty, he should side with Fordham, but frankly he did agree with Hart. He had no taste at all for law breakers of any sort.

Fordham and Hart stared each other down for a minute until he sighed and leaned back. "Mr. Hart. We're poorly understaffed. We get minimal assistance from New Austin, and we've only got four Buereau men assigned here full time, including me, and frankly, Mr. Mason outside is a paper pusher. I'd like to do more. God only knows I would. But frankly, I can't."

Hart's look softened, and he nodded. "Even you government boys have problems, huh?"

Hayes waited until the mood had passed and spoke up. "Mr. Fordham, what exactly are we doing? Even with Mr. Hart and I, we're still fairly understaffed for any kind of big manhunt. And frankly, if this Marston fellow is as good as the paper says, we're gonna need more."

Fordham nodded. "I've got nine other Bureau men on the way. And Mr. Hart, the Marshals have promised another two men as well. You'll be well equipped. Evans repeaters, Bolt-action rifles, Colt pistols, the works. Mr. Hayes, I want you to head up the Bureau men, and Mr. Hart, the Marshals are all yours. Does that work?"

Hayes nodded, as did Hart. The two didn't ask the obvious question, which one was in charge. They could deal with it later. All three men stood and Hayes and Hart left. The two went back outside, in the warm spring air.

Hart stopped him and handed him a cigar, holding another for himself. "Thank you Mr. Hart." Hayes said, lighting it with a lighter. Hart eyed the device for a second and laughed lightly, pulling out a match and lighting his. Hart motioned for him to follow, and the two walked down the street.

"Mr. Hayes, let's get one thing straight. I don't much care for this situation." He puffed, the cigar producing a strong, blue smoke. Hayes puffed on his lightly. It was nice and strong, not quite what he was used to, but he liked it.

"Mind if I ask why?"

Hart blew out a slow stream of smoke. "Frankly, I don't know how you Bureau boys do. At least out here. I heard about what that fellow Ross did. The only member of Van Der Linde's gang he took out personally was Marston senior and that was a goddamn blood bath. No offense, but I don't see any finesse in how you guys operate. And out here, this is a different kind of prey than what you're used to. You need finesse, and skill, and frankly experience."

"I have experience, Mr. Hart."

"I don't doubt it. But tell me, you ever been out here? Tried to catch a man in the open plains, where he can see you coming, where there isn't a building to block your line of sight, or anything like that?"

Hayes shook his head. "No, I haven't." He slowly exhaled the smoke through his teeth. "Look, I think you should take the lead on this one. You've got the experience."

Hart glanced at him, and snorted. "No, those Bureau boys probably won't listen to me. They're gonna follow you. Trying to relinquish command early huh?"

"No. I don't believe in any of that 'getting the glory' shit. I want to see the job done, and done right. If that means leaving it up to you, then I'll do it."

Hart turned and looked at him full on. "Rare to meet a man with that mentality. Refreshing really." he extended his hand again, this time smiling. "Call me John, Mr. Hayes."

Hayes shook it. "Only if you call me Eugene."