Riding for weeks on end to leave their past on the trail of dust that they made. For Flint Rogers or as he's also called ol' Iron Hand and his loyal horse the Silver Strider this was a normal occurence. For a man with a hand of iron and a horse that runs faster than bullets, what else could be expected. If bandits were lucky, they get a shot in their general direction, not that it would hit them. This action would instantly be returned with the sound of a shotgun and instant death throughout all of a 5 mile radius.

When they finally thought that they had run far enough, they decided to take a rest in the nearest town, around 100 miles away so it wouldn't take long. It was a small town called Smithsville.

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