"If lead starts flying, men start dying. By that, I mean you, mister. You will die first, and your horse will be tired tonight from carrying you to the river. There's plenty of room in the Mississippi!" The men, like a chorus, all took a deep breath. They realized at that point that it may very well be their last breath. Legend traveled faster than a telegram in the West. Everybody knew when the Kid killed somebody. Everyone knew about the Earps. Everyone, and I mean everyone, knew what the words William said meant. "Well, I'll be damned," the foreman said. "You're William Mack... Why didn't you say that's who you were?" William Mack had spent the last sixteen years building and running away from the legend he was. It seemed he had a story and a gun that were bigger than the whole outdoors. He never killed a man that didn't ask for it. He was a fair, honest man. It was just his blessing, and curse, that he handled a pistol better than most men. William followed the trail of a bad man and it led him back to Dalston, to his family, and right back to where it all began on the banks of that mighty river. When he found the man he was after, William wouldn't be digging another hole, 'cause everybody knows, There's plenty of room in the Mississippi.