Something weighty and grim eased off Duane.

He was going to get out in front! The horse had speed, fire, stamina.
Duane dashed out into another open place dotted by few trees, and here, right in his path, within pistol-range, stood horsemen waiting.

They yelled, they spurred toward him, but did not fire at him.

He turned his horse--faced to the right.

Only one thing kept him from standing his ground to fight it out.