The two men had come into contact a few years before, during the fiery surrender of a gang called the Buffalo Boys. The four member gang had failed miserably in an awkwardly staged attempt to rob the bank in Buffalo Hump, leaving one teller dead and another wounded.

As it happened, Harold, with his photographer, were in town hoping to get a scoop on a story about the railroad building stockyards at the town limits. Moving cattle east by rail was growing fast as the business model for the cattle barons.

The fact that three Pinkerton detectives, one being Hoke, happened to be in town at the same time, instantly switched Harold's attention, and he eagerly followed their pursuit of the gang. The chase ended in a box canyon, with a violent shoot-out that left two of the gang members dead and the other two badly wounded.

While the detectives were loading the two dead outlaws onto their horses, one prisoner made a final desperate attempt to escape, snatching a horse and galloping off. Hoke was quickest to respond and took off after him.

Just outside the canyon, Harold Meeker and his cameraman from the newspaper, were setting up their position to take pictures, hoping for an interview right on location. None of his competitors ever thought to get up close and brash when covering stories – it was Harold's trademark - or at least, one he wanted to create.

He had just scrambled over to the narrow opening to the canyon to see if they were coming, when the prisoner burst out at speed, the horse suddenly shied at the appearance of the man, and veered away, rearing up and tossing the outlaw into a sprawling heap against the canyon entrance.

Hoke arrived seconds later in a cloud of dust, and leaped down to secure his dazed prisoner. The small explosive sound, and the puff of smoke had Hoke rolling away, gun out, and aiming at what turned out to be the stricken cameraman, who screamed for him not to shoot, and passed out.

****

Harold's story, and the eventual photos were a huge success, bringing attention to both Harold, and Hoke. They had maintained their acquaintance through correspondence, and the occasional exchange of information. So it was, that when Harold first stumbled on the idea for a story on Tom Horn, Hoke was the first to be contacted, and the plan to be devised.

****

"I don't understand why there was so much secrecy and deception." Alicia poked at a piece of fish, spearing it on her fork, and slipping it into her mouth. "I mean, why would Harold be afraid to tell me?" she asked, when she finished chewing.

He stared at her lips. "I think because choosing between your reaction, and his wantin' to send the story to Chicago--"

"But I know he reports for that paper – it's his job."

"It's the subject, Alicia. Tom Horn is an outlaw. Yes, he worked for the same agency as I do, but he chose not to bring the lawbreakers back as often as he should have – he shot them instead."

"So why do you think because he's in this area, my being here will help in any way? Does he even know me?"

"If he reads Harold's story he will."

The light went on suddenly and she put down her fork, staring at Hoke.

"I'm bait!" She looked at her fish dinner.

"That was Harold's idea I tried to explain to you upstairs. My agency has been after him for some time, but all we get is the latest story about his deeds. He's not really a good man, Alicia. He kills for hire for the big cattlemen."

"I'm bait for my own uncle!" She pushed the plate of fish away.

"I'm truly sorry you see it that way. I'druther you felt you'd be helpin' to serve justice."

"Just what is it you expected me to do?"

"Nuthin'! Absolutely nuthin'. We just wait and see if there's any reaction to Harold's newspaper article."

Alicia vehemently expressed her extreme displeasure at having travelled so far only to find she had been deceived, and was expected to simply waste her time on the off chance an uncle, with whom she had never heard of, would seek her out.

****

After a sound night's sleep and a nourishing breakfast, on Hoke, Alicia appeared to be of a mind to accept his continual apologizing, and explaining; she was fully aware she could always go home. Spending a few days to allow and see if the plan had any merit, while still disapproving, seemed harmless enough. A sudden interest in seeing Hoke's burned cabin ignited some hope in him, even if it was her means to allay an earlier suspicion.

****

The wagon jostled along the rough trail, Hoke teasing the reins to guide the horse, while Alicia sat stiffly beside him, hands clutching the buggy frame with resolve.

"It's not far now. Just past that stand of willows you see."

"Do you own all this land?"

"Hardly," he chuckled, "just a few acres next to the river."

"What river?"

"Behind those trees."

"It's so- so remote." Alicia ventured a look around at the vast, empty surroundings. He just nodded.

"Oh, my!" The sudden image of the burned cabin was a marked contrast to the beige soil, and the green rough scrub background, and was a jolt. Alicia placed a hand on her chest.

"No as pretty as it was," Hoke admitted, reigning in the horse and setting the brake. He sat staring at the charred rubble surrounding the blackened stone of a fireplace chimney for a minute, before jumping down and coming around to offer her his hand.

"Oh, dear . . ."

"Well, you asked to see it. There it is- was."

She stepped carefully over the rough ground and stood looking down at the remains. Her earlier suspicion tasting bitter on her tongue.

"How did it happen?"

"Not how – who." He walked up beside her. "It's a complicated tale, but short version, some people who want the land because it also includes the water right-of-way."

She looked at him. "But why is that so important?"

"Well, across the river there," he pointed, "is the Double M cattle ranch – or empire as old Montgomery likes to call it. Over here," he said swinging his arm around, "is some of the best grazing land in miles. Plus, I own a hundred feet on the other side of the river as well."

"I'm still confused."

Hoke reset his hat, took her arm, and led her back to the shade of the willows. There was a crude bench, and he indicated she should sit, while he squatted down a few feet away.

"My pa was in a partnership with a fella that had the idea that all the land you see to the east of you here would one day be where the railroad would come through. He talked my pa into investing in the purchase of as much of it as possible, his plan was to get rich selling or leasing right-of-way to the railroad.

"Unfortunately, the railroad was built to the west, past Double M land. Pa's partner was devastated and wound up drinkin' himself into his grave. To get his money back, Pa sold off most of the land, except for these few acres here, to the territory for tax relief. He built the cabin and him, Ma and me lived here."

"Where are your parents now?"

"Both passed. I was livin' here alone . . . 'til now."

"I'm still not sure what it is about the river and that cattleman?"

"Right now, I'm lettin' Montgomery use the river for his cows, free. Figured it was just neighbourly. But he wants my land too, and he is tryin' to force me to sell. 'Course I won't. It's my land."

"Are you saying he burned your home?"

"His men. There's no doubt. I told him if he wanted to play that way then he could keep his cows off all my land – including the river."

"Will he?"

"He's unsure because he knows I work for Pinkerton. Big cattle have a bad name with my company and they are doin' a careful dance."

Alicia shifted on the bench and he caught the frown.

"I expect we should be headin' back. That old bench can end any long sittin'." He held out his hand, grinning.

"It was becoming hard." She smiled shyly, and let him help her back to the wagon. "Are you going to rebuild?" She asked, after getting settled.

"Hope to. Don't get a lot of free time what with your un- Tom Horn bein' wanted."

"Are you doing this alone?"

"Until, and if, he reads the paper and comes looking for you."

"And if he doesn't – why would he by the way, I've never really heard of him?"

"Well, he came from a big family, ten kids including Tom. He ran away from home in his teens, but we've heard pretty good stories about him rememberin' his sisters, and keepin track of them some. "'Course the family didn't appreciate his reputation none. You're from that part of the family. Your mom Mary Horn, married a fella named Simpson, and you became Alicia Simpson, at birth."