It was a mean business, running a railroad through the Rocky Mountains. The steep arroyos and precipitous canyons of the crawling Stone country weren't made for steel rails and steam engines.
But something was making a mean job even meaner. A gang of renegade railroad employees was wrecking and robbing trains, spilling cattle, gold dust, and blood all over the dry stones.
They had to be stopped, and fast. So the railroad sent their best man. Oh, he didn't look much, and he didn't have much to say. He was an ordinary looking man with his own scores to settle, and his own way of settling them.
A man called Smith.
