tossed it against a nearby rock. The bottle broke into two pieces.
“Damn, I shouldn’t of broke that,” Mole said. “I wasn’t thinkin’, I guess. I could of got myself a penny for it back in town.”
“A penny,” Cooter snorted. “A penny ain’t no money. Not compared to what we’re goin’ to be gettin’ for this job.”
“Yeah, well, if you remember, we tried to kill this feller once before and it didn’t work out all that well,”
Mole said. “What happened is Logan got hisself kilt. That’s what happened.”
“That’s ’cause we didn’t know who we was messin’ with then. Logan didn’t tell us nothin’ about him, so we wasn’t ready for him when he snuck up on us like he done.”
“I don’t intend to let ’im sneak up on us this time,” Mole said. “You might not of seen nothin’ yet, but he’s close. I know it.”
“How do you know it?” Cooter asked.
“’Cause I can feel it in my gut, that’s how I know it. He is out there, and he’s close.”
Cooter climbed down from the rock and walked over to his horse. He slipped his rifle out of the saddle holster.
“What are you fixin’ to do?” Mole asked.
“If he really is comin’ and he’s all that close, like you say he is, I don’t aim to let him get any closer than a rifle shot.”
“Yeah,” Mole agreed. “Yeah, now that’s the best idea you’ve had yet. We’ll just shoot the son of a bitch down, soon as he comes into range.”
The two men, with rifles in hand, climbed back up onto the largest rock that afforded them, not only a good view of the approaching trail, but also some cover and concealment. They checked the loads in their rifles, eased the hammers back to half-cock, then hunkered down on the rock and waited.
“Let ’im come up to no more’n about a hundred yards,” Cooter said. “That way, he’d more’n likely be out of pistol range.”
“What if we miss?” Mole asked. “A hunnert yards is a pretty long shot.”
“It ain’t all that long a shot, and with both of us shootin’, one of us is bound to hit him.”
“What if we don’t?” Mole asked. “What if all we do is just let the son of a bitch know that we’re here. Next thing you know, he’ll be on us like a fly on a horse turd, just like he was back at the canyon. And there won’t be nothin’ we can do about it.”
“The thing to do is not to miss,” Cooter said.
“I don’t know. I’m beginnin’ to think we shouldn’t of took this job,” Mole said.
“You ever had five hundred dollars before?” Cooter asked.
“Hell, you know damn well I ain’t never had that much before. I ain’t ever even seen that much money before,” Mole answered.
“Then shut up your yappin’ and just do what has to be done. Anyhow, we got all the advantage. He’s out in the open, and we got good cover here, what with the rocks and all. Besides which, he don’t have any idea we’re even here at all.”
“I guess you’re right,” Mole agreed.
“Damn right, I’m right.”
At that moment, a rider came into view over a distant rise.
“Son of a bitch! It’s him!” Mole said. “I told you he was close!” He raised his rifle to his shoulder.
“Hold it!” Cooter said, reaching out to pull Mole’s rifle back down. “Be patient. You shoot now and you won’t do no more’n spook him. Let him get close, like I said. Besides, you was the one sayin’ you didn’t think you could hit him at a hundred yards.”
“All right,” Mole said, nervously.
They waited as the distant rider came closer, sometimes seeming not to be riding, but rather floating as he materialized and dematerialized in the heat waves that were rising from the desert floor.
On he came: a mile—half a mile—a quarter of a mile—two hundred yards. Cooter raised his rifle and rested it carefully against the rock, taking a very careful aim. “Just a little closer,” he said, quietly. “A little closer before we fire.”
Mole shifted position to get a better aim. As he did so he dislodged a loose stone, and the stone rolled down the rock, right into the largest, unbroken piece of the whiskey bottle. The stone pushed the glass out into the sun.
As Matt approached the ridgeline ahead of him, a sudden flash of light caught his attention, and he stopped, looking toward the flash.
“What the hell did he stop for?” Mole asked.
Looking down, Cooter saw the sun flashing off the broken whiskey bottle. “You dumb bastard, when you pushed that whiskey bottle down like you done, it commenced to flashin’ in the sunlight. You just gave away our position!” he said angrily. He raised up and fired his first shot.
“I didn’t do it of a pure purpose,” Mole said. “You got no call comin’ down on me like that.”
“Where is he, anyhow?” Cooter stuck his head cautiously over the rock and looked down where the target had been. “Where is he? I can’t see him.”
