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He followed this path for half a mile,
found himself high up on a cold platform.
The trail split, one went across the mesa,
the other went right, winding down below.

On the left he could see clear wagon tracks,
to the right he saw the flickering flames,
wandering to it were four clear horse trails,
he dismounted, crept close to see that way.

Deep down the slope, say two hundred yards off,
he saw four men drinking ’round a fire,
crouched in the trees so they’d have wood to burn,
Dalton smiled, began to conspire.

He would have the clear advantage in this,
he had the high ground, and clear point-of-view,
could shoot them before most could turn around,
and that’s just what he decided to do.

But as he walked to his horse, for his gun,
he saw something small lying in the snow,
it was a small shoe from a little girl,
and something about it hit like a blow.

He bent down low, and picked the small shoe up,
and felt something subtle slip through his rage,
his mind bringing up terrible pictures
of things done to children lacking in age.

They were still out there, and probably close,
children as scared and anguished as his was,
he found himself frozen, is he changed now
his chance at killing Miller would be lost.

For a long minute he struggled with it,
killing Miller was all that he had left,
but that wagon would move if he attacked
as any sane person fled sounds of death.

And if they got clear those children would be
sold off to rich men with quite depraved lusts,
he heard a voice said, ‘Is revenge worth that? ’
And suddenly his choice didn’t seem tough.

He spurred his horse, followed after the ruts,
across the mesa in the evening dim,
soon saw the wagon, and a single guard,
Dalton charged forwards, riding straight for him.

The men looked surprised when the horse bulled forth,
it slammed into him and knocked the man flat,
Dalton leapt and pulled a knife from his belt,
and into the thug he began to stab.

It didn’t take long to finish the job,
the guard lay still in the snow, now stained red,
he straightened and looked up to the wagon,
just making out the shape of seven heads.

Four girls and three boys, shivering, afraid,
not one of them looked much older then ten,
wearing torn clothes, wrapped up in rough blankets,
Dalton said, “He cannot hurt you again.”

He pointed to lights back down the valley,
said, “There’s a town there, you all will be safe.
Run, and don’t stop, do not even look back.
I will delay them, so you can escape.”

CONTINUES IN PART IV.
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