Brom Beenderen’s End

South of the Humboldt sink in Northern Nevada, Brady found two bodies. Miners murdered, bearded, hairy heads mounted on nearby pikes.

Removed cleanly by a sharp instrument, Brady felt sure he was looking for someone with a sword. The hoof and dog prints made him think of a mounted Calvery soldier in the company of a large dog.

A mile away, Brady found them, the dapple gray horse nibbling grass and the brindle dog looking bored. A headless Hessian soldier stood a short distance away, a Hesse-Cassel saber in hand.

Not waiting, Brady drew his Colt revolver and shot the soldier. The sword fell from his hand as he toppled over onto his back.

“Told him not to,” the dog said.

“But Brom Beenderen would not listen,” the horse added.

Looking the pair over and seeing neither were a threat, Brady asked, “Need a place to stay?”

“Yes,” each answered.

Brady led them both home, knowing its hard to suffer fools and that they had suffered enough.