No one could match him. He was . . .

THE MAN WHO BROKE SATAN

“I declare!” Pete Berry said with an admiring grin. “And ev’rybody said this was the bronc that couldn’t be rode.”

“Mebbe nobody asked him the right way,” Lacey said with a shrug and a grin.

“Could be, but I doubt it,” Berry muttered. “I also kinda doubt you’re here just to show me that high-steppin’ stallion. She oughtta be here any time now, Will . . .”

Straight-faced, Lacey said that he supposed he ought to wait for the girl to arrive.

“Just outta politeness, huh?” Berry chuckled.

“Somethin’ like that.”

Satin was uneasy in the enclosed space. Lacey dismounted but continued to stroke the long, thick mane.

Berry’s knowledgeable eyes returned to the horse.

“You got yourself a magnificent hoss, son,” he commented, and then he let out a jubilant cackle. “And I bet you put Dex Coster’s nose plumb outta joint, too, didn’t you?”

“You know about that?”

“It’s all over town, Will. Which means you got to be careful now, son. Don’t matter how good you are with a gun, iffen you’re up agin a backshooter . . ."