He had a five-notch past and plenty more room on his gun. Carr was coming back and along the silent dusty street of Salt Fork you could almost smell death in the air. In the gray light of morning the four Kendalls waited for him, gun-hot and swaggering--but thinking, too, of the five dead outlaws strung out down Jonathan Carr's back trail. The morning grew brighter--and so did the knowledge that by sundown in Salt Fork there would be burying to do.