Six people rode the stage from Tucson bound for San Diego. Young Muller, with his flask of whiskey and his desert knowledge that he tried to deny; middle-aged Huston, close-mouthed and enigmatic; Ansel Jager, the flashily dressed gambler; Maggie Hale, the painted dance-hall girl — all carried secrets and guilt. Only the old prospector and Lieutenant James V. Patterson, just out of West Point and on his way to his first post of duty at the Presidio, clearly were what they declared themselves to be. Jager and Maggie seemed to have some acquaintance with one another; other than that, the six were strangers.