Young Jefferson Morgan didn't talk much, but word got around that he was looking for something -- or someone. They had killed his friend, and Jefferson Morgan knew exactly who they were. A murderous crew, Bud Briscoe and his gang galloped through the Southwest as if they owned it. And now they were pushing on further west. They didn't stop anywhere for very long -- just long enough to brawl, to laugh at their own cruel antics, to sing their raucous songs, and to raise what they called Merry Hell. They killed his friend -- partly for the forty dollars he had on him, but mostly for fun. And now young Jefferson Morgan followed their tracks westward.