La dernière étape
Morgan Orr stepped clear as the horse fell. He looked at the dying animal with pity, then drew his gun and put a bullet into the horse’s head. Then, weary and empty, he turned and stared down at the town. Ten long years and this is what it came to. Ten years of violence while the name of Morgan Orr became whispered from one end of the frontier to the other, while his gun became a legend told in a thousand saloons. Ten years of watchfulness etched in his bony face, of wildness and caution stamped in his long, lean stride. And this is what it came to. A ragged, hungry man, limping down the slope of the mountains – tired of killing, sick of his life, heading back to his home at last. Back to a place called Arapaho Wells – the last town in the world that would let him hang up his gun.