Three men rode down the hill towards the body of the dead cavalry officer. On the right was a Texan—small and insignificant-looking. His name was Dusty Fog. On the left was Mark Counter, the dandy of the group, known and feared from Texas to New Mexico. And in the middle, hands never far from the butts of his guns rode the Ysabel Kid, six feet of slim and deadly manhood. Three men with purpose in their hearts and death in their holsters.
