When Sheriff Cassidy Yates rode into Eagle Heights, he never expected that by nightfall he would be in jail on an unfounded murder charge.

Although Cassidy answered the charge, it was only at the cost of implicating his own wayward brother in both this murder and later in the kidnapping of the dead man's widow.

With it being clear that there's an escalating conspiracy of fear operating in Eagle Heights, Cassidy gained the help of a young newspaper correspondent in his quest to find the real killer and the kidnapped woman. But with gun-toting ranchers and numerous hired guns standing between Cassidy and justice, can he prove his brother's innocence?

Weaver Dale had just made his second big mistake and Sheriff Cassidy Yates would make him pay for it.

Cassidy had been on Weaver's trail for the last three weeks. He'd been chasing Luther Manson's bandit gang ever since they'd raided Monotony's bank, and so far his only lead had been Weaver, a known outlaw who had probably joined Luther for that one raid, then left.

Cassidy had pursued him to within twenty miles of Eagle Heights, but then his quarry had holed up in the sprawling expanse of caves and blind gulches known as Devil's Ridge, aiming to lie low until Cassidy moved on. But Cassidy wasn't the sort of man who ever gave up and when Weaver had emerged from his bolt-hole he'd followed him. Now he stood before the town's only saloon and Weaver's distinctive roan mare was tethered outside.

Cassidy clumped on to the boardwalk then nudged through the batwings. The main room was heaving and Cassidy quickly slipped into the crowd to search out his quarry. He roved his gaze across the sprawling mass of cowboys who were jostling for position before the bar, then around the raucous gaming tables until his gaze centred on the Faro table.

Weaver was sitting there, his back to the door--a third and final mistake.

Cassidy paced across the room, rounding several tables to approach him. He got to within five paces of him when the dealer murmured a few low words to Weaver. It was unlikely to have been a comment about who was approaching, but Weaver immediately leapt to his feet and swirled round.

For a frozen moment they locked gazes--Cassidy's was calm, Weaver's was wide-eyed and shocked--but one of the many customers in the saloon happened to wander by and Weaver took advantage of his luck. He grabbed the man's shoulder, halting him, then shoved him towards Cassidy. The man stumbled into Cassidy then grabbed hold of him to stop himself falling, and with this man being too drunk to realize who had shoved him Cassidy wasted valuable seconds extricating himself.

When he'd dragged himself clear, Weaver had already slipped from his view and he had to swirl round on the spot, searching for him. Again, he lost valuable moments before his gaze alighted on the man running for the door, barging people aside in his haste to get outside.

Three weeks ago Weaver had shot the only person to die in the Monotony bank raid in cold blood, so Cassidy had no qualms about gunning down this low-life. But as he didn't dare shoot at him in a crowded saloon, he broke into a run and followed.

Weaver clattered through the batwings then hurtled down the boardwalk, running away from his roan.

Cassidy was ten paces behind him as he reached the door then side-stepped through the batwings when they swung out to their utmost. He swirled round and was just in time to see Weaver disappear into Arthur McIntyre's mercantile. Cassidy ran after him, sprinting the few yards past the saloon to the store then drew his gun and charged in through the door. He leapt to the side keeping low to stand crouched by the wall in case Weaver was waiting for him to come in. But Weaver wasn't in sight and neither was anyone else.

Cassidy stood still, running his gaze around the store. Only one other door led out of the room, facing him behind the counter. Stacked boxes, sacks, and barrels created a warren of aisles to Cassidy's right, the left hand side of the store being relatively open.

The door behind the counter creaked open. Cassidy flicked up his gun as the door swung out to its utmost, but the man who emerged was short, portly and clad in a black apron, presumably Arthur, the store owner. Arthur took in the sight of Cassidy holding a gun on him with barely a flicker of concern then spoke up.

'What you...?'

Cassidy thrust a finger to his lips, silencing him then gestured around the store, asking silently if he could see where Weaver was hiding.

He received a quizzical raised eyebrow in response, but Cassidy judged his bemusement as confirmation that Weaver hadn't slipped out through the door. That meant he was in this room somewhere and so slowly Cassidy pushed himself away from the wall.

He paced towards the first aisle of sacks then darted a glance down them, but Weaver wasn't there. Then he headed to the second and again risked darting his gaze down the aisle. Weaver still wasn't there.

He glanced at Arthur who had now understood Cassidy's intent and was rocking from foot to foot and darting his gaze around, but as Cassidy hadn't identified himself as a lawman, he was unsure as to whether he'd help him.

Cassidy had three more aisles to search and he slipped closer to the next. He was just preparing himself to dart forward when a shadow edged forward. At that precise moment Arthur screeched.

'Watch out!' he yelled.

Cassidy darted back, fearing gunfire, but he wasn't quick enough to avoid a corn sack that Weaver had pushed off the top of the aisle. It caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder, knocking him back and then to one knee.

Another shadow swept over Cassidy as Weaver leapt down from his hiding place on the top of the sacks. He landed to Cassidy's side, righted himself with surprising agility then kicked out, his boot planting itself on Cassidy's chest and bundling him on to his back. Then Weaver ran for the door, yanking it open and hurrying out on to the boardwalk.

Cassidy rolled until he lay flat then slipped up to his knees and feet. Then he ran for the door. Weaver had only a few seconds on him as he dashed outside. But then he had to stop himself dead and snap his head back, narrowly avoiding a slug that whistled by his nose and dug splinters from the door jamb.

Panicked shouting erupted from outside as Weaver planted another slug in the door then more shouting as another shot ripped out. As Weaver would have no qualms about shooting innocent bystanders if it'd help him escape, Cassidy had no choice but to follow him out.

Cassidy crouched then leapt through the door, keeping low. A bullet whined over his tumbling form, only the fact he'd thrown himself straight to the boardwalk saving him. He hit the wood then kept rolling as he slipped off the boardwalk then dug an elbow in, halting himself, and swung both his arms straight out, aiming down the road.

Several people were out on the road, but his gaze centred in on the man on the side of the boardwalk who was swinging his gun round to follow his tumbling form--Weaver Dale.

Cassidy had just a moment to still himself then fire, but it was enough. His single deadly shot tore into Weaver's chest, throwing him backwards and into a post, where he folded round it before sliding to the ground, leaving behind a red snail's trail.

Cassidy lay for a moment, ensuring Weaver wouldn't get up then jumped to his feet and paced down the road. As intrigued people spilled out of the saloon, he gestured with a calming wave of a hand conveying the crisis was over. Arthur joined Cassidy in standing over the body of Weaver.

'Who was he?' he asked.

'Name's Weaver Dale,' Cassidy said, 'wanted for murder in Monotony.'

'Then it seems he got the justice he deserved.'

'As will the rest of the bandits he was with,' Cassidy said, reaffirming the promise he'd made three weeks ago.

'And who are you?'

'I'm Cassidy Yates, sheriff of Monotony.'

Arthur nodded, his eyes flickering with something, perhaps alarm, but before Cassidy could ask what the problem was, a grunted order to turn round sounded behind him. He turned to face a man with a star, the sheriff of Eagle Heights, two surly deputies flanking him.

'So,' Sheriff McGill said, standing casually with one leg thrust forward and his hand drifting close to his holster, 'you're Cassidy Yates.'

'Sure am,' Cassidy said, holstering his gun, 'and if you don't know about Weaver Dale, I'll be pleased to fill you in on all the details.'

'Oh, I know all about Weaver Dale.' McGill smiled, but then replaced his jovial expression with a cold-eyed glare. 'But the only question on my mind is about you and what you've done.'

Cassidy gestured around him at the numerous onlookers.

'I reckon I've got a whole heap of witnesses here who saw that Weaver gave me no choice but to shoot him.'

'I'm sure that's right, but I don't mean what you did today, I mean what you did last week.'

'Last week I was holed up on Devil's Ridge, staking this one out.'

'If that's your story, you won't find many people who'll believe it, and that includes me.' McGill gestured right then left and his two deputies drew their guns, aiming them squarely at Cassidy's chest. 'Cassidy Yates, I'm arresting you for murder, rape, and horse thieving. Come quietly or die where you stand.'