“What in tarnation…” said Jack to himself as he hurriedly to put his pants on and buckle his holster around his waist. His dog, Ranger, must have sensed something too as it started barking, pawing at the door trying to get out. “Ranger, down boy,” shot Jack firmly as he tied a leash to Ranger’s collar. “If a fight’s what they want, a fight’s what they’ll get,,” he said as he finished up and stroked his furry dog’s head. He reached for his shotgun and his wide-brimmed hat before giving the cabin one last look-around. Then, with a deep breath, he opened the cabin door and stepped outside. The harsh midday sun shone bright but Jack Preacher did not look away. Ranger barked at the riders, who seemed oblivious to the canine. The leash tugged at Preacher’s grip, his fist all tensed up just like his jaw. “Gentlemen,” said Preacher, nodding his head to the mounted strangers. “Jack Preacher,” said the rider on the right with a low grumbling voice. “I see that you are still above snakes.” The other riders all snickered menacingly except the one on the left, who seemed to be eyeing Jack’s rifle with caution. The rider with the low rumbling voice started again. “The auger sent us here, in case you were wonderin’,” said the rider as he spat on the ground. Jack noticed everyone else except him dismounting. “So,” answered Jack Preacher. All eyes were on him. “Let’s dance.”