“Yeah. So tell me, are we goin’ to shoot the son of a bitch here? Or are we goin’ take him back to the cabin?”
“Logan wants us to bring him back to the cabin,” Greer said.
“Yeah, you know why he wants us to bring him back. That’s because if we take him into Logan before we kill him, it would be a six-way split. But if we kill him here, it will only be a three-way split.”
“You want Logan mad at you, do you? I don’t know about you, but Logan ain’t the kind of man I want to cross. He said bring him back to the cabin, and that’s just exactly what we’re goin’ to do.”
“Hey, Poole,” Bragg called up. “Do you see him comin’?”
“Nah,” Poole shouted back. “I don’t see nothin’.”
“Hell, if he’s goin’ to get here at ten o’clock, you ought to see him by now. No doubt he’ll be followin’ the river. Look again.”
“I did look again,” Poole said. “I ain’t seen ’im.”
“Damn,” Greer said in a conversational voice to Bragg. “What if he don’t come?”
“I don’t know. We’ll kill the boy, I reckon.”
“Yeah, I guess so. You’d think he would come, though.”
“Really? Think about this. He has to know that if he comes here, he’s comin’ to get hisself kilt. Now let me ask you. Would you do that? Would you trade your life for the boy’s life?”
“Hell no,” Greer said. “But Jensen is different.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know, different how. Just different. What time is it?”
Bragg took out his pocketwatch and looked at it. “It’s ten o’clock,” he said.
“And I’m right on time,” Matt said, stepping out of the tree line.
“What? What the hell?” Bragg said. “Greer!”
“Yeah, I see him,” Greer said.
Matt was standing not more than thirty feet away from Greer and Bragg. And while the two Yellow Kerchief Gang men had their pistols in their holsters, Matt had his gun in his hand, leveled at them.
“Where did you come from?” Greer said.
“It ain’t a question of where, it’s a question of when,” Bragg said. “You didn’t just get here, did you?”
“Your friend is smarter than he looks,” Matt said. “I got here early. Very early. Call Poole down.”
“Poole?” Greer called.
“Yeah?” Poole’s voice floated back down.
“Come down here.”
“What for? I ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“He’s already here,” Greer said.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I mean he is already here, standing right in front of us. Come on down.”
Matt moved a bit deeper into the tree line and watched as Poole stepped out to the edge of the flat rock where Matt had spent the last several hours. Poole had his pistol in his hand, and he was looking down toward Greer and Bragg.
“What do you mean he’s standing in front of you? I don’t see him,” Poole said.
Matt stepped out of the tree line so Poole could see him. “I’m right here,” Matt said. “Why don’t you come on down and join the party?”
“The hell I will!” Poole said. Raising his pistol he aimed and fired at Matt. The bullet clipped a few pine needles off a branch that was but an inch away from Matt.
When he saw that Poole was about to shoot at him, Matt raised his own pistol and fired simultaneously. Matt saw the puff of dust and a little mist of blood where his bullet hit the middle of Poole’s chest. Poole dropped his pistol, staggered a few steps forward, then pitched off the rock, doing a half turn on the way down so that he landed flat on his back.
Bragg made the calculation that with Matt’s attention diverted by Poole, he wouldn’t be able to respond quickly enough if he drew on him. The calculation was wrong. Even as he was drawing his gun, Matt turned toward him with his pistol blazing.
If Greer had given a thought to drawing on Matt, he abandoned it quickly and put his arms up in the air.
“I ain’t goin’ for my gun! I ain’t goin’ for my gun!” he shouted.
Having heard the shooting, Logan, Poindexter, and Clayton came out of the cabin. Logan and Poindexter had pistols in their hands, Clayton was holding a double-barrel shotgun.
“What the hell was that shootin’ about?” Logan asked. “I told them I wanted them to bring him here.”
“Logan, look!” Poindexter said. “Someone is comin’ up the path.”
