commodities to be used sparingly. Here and there, Kyle saw that some light did manage to escape through the windows of those buildings where there was light.
The grounds themselves were not totally dark, though, because the moon was full and bright, and the chapel, dormitory, stable, and grain storage buildings all gleamed in a soft, silver light like white blooms sprouting from desert cactus.
The night was alive with the long, high-pitched trills and low violalike thrums of the frogs. For counterpoint there were crickets, the long, mournful howl of coyotes, and from the stable, a mule braying and a horse whickering.
With his gun in hand, and staying in the shadows alongside the wall, Kyle moved toward the building that he knew to be the dining hall. He was sure they would be inside there, because it was one of the few buildings that had a light. Finding a window, he looked inside. There, he saw Taylor, Simmons, and Brother James. Though he had been certain that Taylor and Simmons were here, this was his first, actual confirmation of the fact.
Taylor and Simmons were eating, and Kyle thought that might give him the opportunity he needed to sneak up on them. Moving toward the front door, he opened it quietly.
Except for a single candle on the table, the room was dark, and that enabled Kyle to step inside, then slip quickly into the shadows.
“Bring me some more beans and bread,” Taylor said.
“Yeah, and some bacon,” Simmons added.
“I told you, we do not eat meat in this order.”
“Yeah, I know what you told us, but I think you’re shittin’ us,” Simmons said.
“Seeing as you are nothing but a turd anyway, how would you know whether he’s shitting you or not?” Kyle asked.
“What the hell?” Taylor shouted, standing up and spinning around toward Kyle.
“Hold it right there!” Kyle shouted menacingly. He cocked his pistol and the sound it made was loud and deadly. “Drop your gun belts.”
Glaring at him, their features contorted by the candlelight, the two outlaws unbuckled their gun belts and dropped them.
“What are you plannin’ on doin’ with us?” Taylor asked.
“I’m taking you back to jail,” Kyle said.
“There’s two of us and only one of you. Plus, it’s a long way back. How do you plan to do that?”
“That’s not your problem,” Kyle replied.
“You’ll never get us back.”
“Oh, I’ll get you back, all right,” Kyle said. “Either sitting in your saddle, or draped over it.”
When Kyle and his two prisoners rode into Sentinel two days later, the two riders were handcuffed and connected to each other by a rope. They stopped in front of the marshal’s office.
“Get down,” he said.
“It ain’t goin’ to be all that easy, what with us bein’ handcuffed and tied together with a rope,” Simmons said.
“I’ll help,” Kyle said, giving Simmons a shove. The outlaw fell from his saddle and rolled on the ground.
“You need help, too?” Kyle asked the other prisoner.
“No, I can get down on my own,” Taylor said, dismounting quickly.
Kyle herded them into the office. “Back there,” he said, pointing toward the cells at the back of the building.
“Say, Marshal, I’m gettin’ a little hungry here,” Taylor said. “What time do you serve supper?”
“I’ll bring you a biscuit and bacon,” Kyle said as put them into the cell, then closed the door and locked it. “Stick your hands through the bars.”
“Can’t get through, what with these handcuffs.”
“Hold one hand on top of the other, you can do it.”
The prisoners complied and Kyle removed their handcuffs, then hung them on a hook.
“You boys behave yourselves,” he said. “I’m going to get a beer.”
“Hey, Marshal, when you bring back them biscuits, you reckon you could bring us a beer?” Simmons asked. He laughed out loud.
“That’s real funny, Simmons,” Kyle said as he left.
When Kyle opened the door to the Ox Bow Saloon a couple of minutes later, he saw his deputy, Boomer Foley, sitting at a table with Sally Fontaine, the saloon owner. Boomer was a slender man, almost skinny, but appearances were deceiving. Kyle had seen Boomer in action, and he was more than able to handle himself.
Sally was a very attractive auburn-haired woman in her late thirties. She was a widow who had inherited the saloon when her husband was shot and killed by a drunken patron. Most expected Sally to sell the saloon and go back to Virginia where her father had once been a United States Congressman. They were surprised when she announced her intention of remaining in Sentinel to run the Ox Bow. Few thought she would succeed, but it was now three years since Marty Fontaine was killed, and the Ox Bow had not only survived, it did a thriving business.
