'He got Coy an' Bud. Shot 'em right off the backs of their horses. I made it down the slope, but I was dodgin' lead the whole time.'
'In the dark?'
'Dark as pitch, Boss.'
'I thought you told me Morgan was wounded ... that you found blood.'
'We did. He's got somebody with him. Don't know who the hell was doin' the shootin', but he can damn sure hit what he aims at.'
Victor Vanbergen was standing at a window. 'That bastard,' he snapped.
Cletus Huling strode over to the fire to get more beans from the pot. 'I'll handle Morgan,' he said, 'If you raise my share to fifteen thousand.'
'You're too goddamn greedy,' Victor said. 'You agreed to ten thousand.'
Cletus grunted. 'It don't appear any of us is gonna collect a damn dime unless we find Morgan, an' even then we ain't sure he's got the money.'
'He wants this boy,' Ned said, turning to Conrad for a moment.
Cletus gave Ned a steely stare. 'After all I've been through gettin' this kid up here, I'd better get the money you promised me in that telegram, Ned. If I don't, I'm gonna kill you an' Victor an' every other gunslick you've got left, if you have any left after Morgan gets through with you. He's killin' off your boys faster'n you can keep track of the number, an' that ain't no joke.'
'You can't talk to me like that, Cletus,' Ned said, his eyebrows furrowing.
'Like hell I can't,' Cletus replied. 'I've killed better men than any of you. I'll kill every sumbitch in this valley unless I get my money.'
'There's seven of us,' Victor said from his spot by the window. 'You'll never get us all.'
'Time'll tell,' Cletus remarked, his right hand near his pistol. 'If I get the money you promised me, there won't be no trouble.'
Victor's eyes strayed to Ned's. They both knew how dangerous Cletus could be, one reason they'd contacted him to capture the Browning boy.
'Take it easy, Cletus,' Ned said. 'No call to get so riled up.'
'Just so long as I get my damn money,' Cletus told him as he took a spoonful of beans and shoveled them into his mouth. 'That's the only reason I'm here,' he added, chewing without taking his eyes from either Ned or Victor, his back to the wall beside the hearth.
Ned looked at Buster. 'Are you sure Coy an' Bud are dead?' he asked.
'Same as dead,' Buster answered. 'Coy couldn't hardly talk an' Bud was cryin' like a sugar-tit baby. I damn sure wasn't gonna look for 'em with Morgan shootin' down on us the way he did just now.'
'What makes you so sure it was Morgan?' Victor asked, an eye still on Cletus as he walked over to the fire to warm his back and his hands.
'I ain't,' Buster replied. 'Only whoever it was could damn sure shoot in the dark.'
'Morgan brought somebody with him this time,' Ned told the others.
'Sounds like it,' Cletus agreed. 'A wounded feller ain't gonna have the best aim. You said you found blood in the snow, an' two sets of footprints.'
'We did,' Buster agreed.
'Reckon one of them Injuns I saw when we rode in is helpin' him?'
'Them Injuns don't help nobody. We hardly ever see 'em around here,' Ned said. 'They ain't never come down an' talked to us.'
'How come they hang around here?' Cletus asked.
'Nobody knows. We asked folks down in Glenwood Springs. They tell stories about 'em.'
'What kind of stories?'
Ned looked down at his boots a moment. 'About how they're called the Old Ones, the Ones Who Came Before. Some of the old-timers around here claim they're the Anasazi, the Injuns who built all them old mud houses up on the bluffs.'
'What the hell does that have to do with anything?' Cletus asked him.
Ned seemed reluctant to answer right at first. 'They've all been dead for hundreds of years, Cletus, or so the locals tell it.'
'So that's where them ghost stories come from?'
'Most likely.'
Buster spoke. 'The sumbitch shootin' at me an' Coy and Bud wasn't no ghost. Leastways, the bullets, was real enough to knock 'em off their horses.'
'It was Morgan,' Cletus said, sounding sure of it.
'That's the way I've got it figured,' Buster answered in a faraway voice.
Cletus walked over to the door and opened it a crack. For a time he stared out at the snowy night.
