Cheyenne Saturday

Somewhere out there, beyond the buffalo, Goose Face was waiting -- and planning slaughter. Goose Face, the savage, young Cheyenne marauder thirsting for the blood of the enemy whites -- for the blood of the army of sweating men who drove the great iron horse straight at him. The Union Pacific was going through, its shining tracks flung westward to the sea. Riding point for the railhead was Nathan Ellis, the tall Texan scout who gloried in battle and longed for a chance at the renegade chieftain hidden in ambush in the tall grass beyond. Pounding hard at his heels was Liza Reeves, the dirty-faced beauty in buckskins, fighting as fiercely as any three men -- until the woman in her laid eyes on Nathan Ellis. Together they led the Union Pacific's stand against Goose Face, hurling back his charge in a ring of fire, smoke-blackened and bloody with wounds but vowing not to fall back one inch until every howling warrior had fallen -- or until the rail-head was no more.