The little town had no outstanding or distinguishing features to recommend it to anyone, just a small place where people went about their own business. That is, until the morning the gang rode into town with destruction on their mind. No one ever knew who they were and no one could decide why. There was nothing of value in the place, but the people with handkerchiefs across their faces rode through shooting and killing everything in sight. Little Alana Dell’s papa placed her in an old trunk, warning her not to make a sound; he covered her with old clothes and rags. The child watched through a knothole as her parents, brother, and grandparents were shot down. When morning came and all was quiet, the child left the safety of the trunk and, wandering in the street, found another little girl, Silvia. The two were the only ones left alive, and they survived the best they could until a kind sheriff came and took them away. After being adopted years later, they were to vie for the same young man, Wesley Sinclair, and he chose Silvia, but when she wouldn’t go with him to the west, Alana said she would go. The long days spent on the trail, they faced weather, and the worst was the boredom. Before winter set in, they looked for a place to hold up, and finding a half dugout, they made their home there for the time. When weevils got in their flour and they ran low on other staples, Wes went to replenish things. Alana cared for the animals. The second day, he was gone, and a huge dog showed up with an injured foot, and with Alana caring for him, he became her constant companion, even saving her and Wes from a mountain lion and getting his belly ripped open in the process. Spring came, and they made their way to the west where they made their home. There they had other adventures.
