'I've always worked alone,' he said, gazing off at a window of the cabin.
'Why?'
'It's safer that way. You don't have to worry about being double-crossed by a partner.'
Buck hesitated, as if he were thinking carefully about what Frank said. 'Back in the war, we counted on havin' men who kept a watch on our backsides.'
Frank drained his cup. 'Graveyards all over the South and the North are full of men who were counting on someone to watch behind them.'
'But a man can't live his entire lifetime alone, Morgan. You've got to learn to trust somebody.'
'Maybe,' Frank said. 'Maybe not. I'm still alive because I learned to trust myself and nobody else. It may sound strange, but it's kept me out of a cemetery.'
Karen put her cast-iron pan full of biscuits on top of the stove, banging its lid into place. 'Some folks can be trusted,' she said.
He examined the crude bandage around his shoulder while he thought about what the girl said. 'I reckon I just haven't found anyone like that,' he said.
She was staring at him now. 'It could be said that maybe you didn't look hard enough, Frank.'
'I suppose.'
Dog came over to him and licked his hand, his liquid eyes on his master.
'I suppose I trust this dog,' he said after a bit of thinking on the subject.
Karen wheeled away from him and began cutting strips of salt pork into a smaller frying pan. 'Men aren't good judges of character,' she said.
Frank chuckled. 'I reckon not, although I think I'm a real good judge of bad characters.'
A pine knot popped in the stove. For a while, all three of them were silent, until Buck brought Frank the jug of whiskey. 'If I was you, I'd drink some more of this,' he said. 'An' another cup of tea.'
'I'll do it,' Frank muttered, hoisting the whiskey to his lips. 'Right now, I don't much care which one of 'em cures me. All I care about is the cure.'
Buck moved over to the door, picking up his rifle. 'I'm gonna go have a look around. Done the best I could at coverin' our tracks an' your blood in the snow, but a man can't be too careful. Be back in a little while, after I make sure we ain't been followed out of that valley.'
Buck went out into the darkness, shouldering into his coat.
--------
*Twenty-three*
Sam signaled a halt. 'Yonder's a fire ... I smell it. Maybe it's Charlie on his way back to the valley after he ambushed Morgan.'
'Who the hell else would be out here?' Tony asked as he peered into the snow. They'd been following traces of blood and footprints for several hours.
Buster jerked his pistol free, his back to the heavy snowfall. 'We gotta be sure, boys,' he said to Sam and Tony. 'I've heard stories about Morgan. He ain't no tinhorn, even if he is bad wounded. Let's ride up real careful, just to be on the safe side.'
'You worry too much,' Sam said. 'Charlie Bowers is as good as they come when it comes to trackin' a man. That's how come Ned sent him back to do the job. Charlie don't miss. He's as good as they get for a bushwhackin' job.'
'All the same,' Buster said, drawing his own Colt .44, 'we'll ride up careful. No sense in takin' any chances. It could be some deer hunter or a traveler. We don't need no more troubles with the law if we kill the wrong man. I still say it pays to be cautious with Morgan.'
'Remember what Ned told us,' Sam warned. 'Frank Morgan is a killer, a professional shootist from way back. He may still have a lot of caution in him, even if Charlie winged him.'
'Ned's too worried about Morgan,' Tony declared. 'Besides, he's just one man and there's three of us. You ain't giving Charlie enough credit. My money says he planted Morgan in a shallow grave by now.'
'We've got the wind at our backs,' Sam said. 'Let's ride around to the east and come at him upwind, whoever the hell he is.'
'Sounds like a good idea,' Buster agreed. 'We'll cut around to the south and move upwind. If it's Charlie camped down by that creek, we'll recognize him. If it ain't, if it's Morgan, we start shootin' until that sumbitch is dead.'
'Morgan's already dead,' Tony said. 'The only thing worryin' Ned is why Charlie didn't come back to the cabin by dark. Charlie knows his way around these mountains. Maybe all that happened was his horse went lame.'
'I don't like the looks of this, Tony,' Sam said, squirming in his saddle. 'There's something about this that don't feel quite right.'
'You're a natural-born worrier, Sam,' Tony said. 'If it is Frank Morgan down there by that fire, the three of us will kill him.'
The gunslicks rode south into the snowy night with guns drawn.
Larger flakes of snow had begun to fall, and the howl of the squall winds echoed through the treetops around them.
* * * *
