When Falcon stepped back out into the hallway, the same girl who had indicated which room Casey went into, now pointed to the open window at the end of the hall.
“The other one went out that way,” she said.
“Thanks.”
By the time Falcon got back downstairs, the sheriff had arrived.
“Mister, you’ve got some explaining to do,” he said.
Falcon wished now that he had taken a badge from Sheriff Corbin.
“My name is Falcon MacCallister. Get in touch with Sheriff Corbin at Oro Blanco; he’ll tell you what this is all about.”
The sheriff smiled. “I don’t have to get in touch with him, Mr. MacCallister. He’s already sent me a letter. Fact is, he sent ever’ sheriff in this part of the territory a letter, explaining what you are doing.”
“Did he tell you everything I’m doing?” Falcon asked. He nodded toward Dagen’s body. “What I need to do to stop an Indian war?”
“Don’t do it here,” the sheriff said cryptically. “I’ll have the bodies taken down to the undertaker’s office. You can do what has to be done there.”
Jane Stockdale was taking clothes down from the line. She removed the pins from a large bedsheet, then took it down.
“Oh!” she gasped.
Removing the bedsheet exposed a man standing behind it. He was holding a pistol.
“Where at is your man?” he asked.
“He’s in the house,” she said. “And if he sees you here, he will shoot you.”
In fact her husband was not here. He and Timmy had gone into town to buy some supplies. But Jane was afraid to tell the man she was alone.
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you. If your man was here he’d be out here right now, wantin’ to know what is goin’ on. That is, if he was a man.”
“He’s here,” Jane said, though her declaration sounded weak even to her own ears.
“Uh-huh. Then who was that man and kid I seen leavin’ in the buckboard about fifteen minutes ago?”
“Who are you?” Jane asked. “What do you want?”
“The name is Monroe. And what I want is a little food, that’s all. Just a little food and I’ll be on my way.”
“All right,” Jane said, fighting to keep her voice calm.
“I would never like it said that I turned away a hungry man.” She started toward the house.
“Hey, you, wait a minute,” Monroe said. He pointed at Jane. “I know who you are now. You was on that stage, wasn’t you?”
Jane gasped. She had realized, almost from the moment she first saw him, that he was one of the men who had robbed the stage, killed the shotgun guard, and later killed Cloud Dancer. But she had thought it might be dangerous to let him know that she recognized him, so she had not challenged him.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said, still trying to pretend he’d made a mistake.
“The hell you don’t. You was on that stage all right. You, your kid, a drummer, an Injun girl, and MacCallister.”
“Why did you kill her?” Jane asked, no longer trying to keep up the pretense of not knowing him. “Why did you kill Cloud Dancer?”
“Cloud Dancer? That was her name?”
“Why did you kill her?” Jane asked again.
Monroe started to tell her that it was Ponci who killed her, that he didn’t have anything to do with it. But he changed his mind, deciding it might be better if she feared him.
“I killed her because she wouldn’t do what I wanted her to do.” He leered at Jane. “Do you get my meanin’?”
“I ... I suppose I do,” Jane admitted.
“Good, good, I’m glad we understand each other. So, just to show me that you do understand, I want you to take off your clothes.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I said take off your clothes,” Monroe said.
“I ... I thought you were hungry. Let me get you something for you to eat.”
“There will be plenty of time for food later,” Monroe said. “Take off them clothes.”
“Please,” Jane said in a pleading voice. “Don’t make me do this thing.”
“I ain’t goin’ to ask you again,” Monroe said, pointing his pistol at her head and cocking it.
Slowly, reluctantly, and fearfully, Jane began unbuttoning her dress.
