for it. And when he didn’t, Zeb stooped and picked
the gun up and put it in his coat pocket, then
thumbed back the eyelids and said, “He’s as dead as a
tree stump.”
The Stone brothers waited until the following day
when there was an article written up in the
the dead man’s name and the names of those who had
shot him. The man from the newspaper even took
their photograph standing next to the dead man laid
out in a lead-lined coffin in the local funeral parlor.
They were more than happy to give their names, stat-
ing clearly they were bona fide bounty hunters. They
bought several copies to take back to Montana along
with the spoils of victory: Fancher’s piebald gelding,
his well-oiled, brass-fitted Henry rifle, two shirts and
six pairs of socks found in his saddlebags, a razor,
and a small shaving mirror. And oddly enough, a pair
of lady’s stockings.
And once the reward was collected for Fancher,
they began in earnest to find the partner—one William
Sunday who, it was said, was a very dangerous man.
10
Jake wondered what he’d do with the orphan
once he got him back to Sweet Sorrow. The child
sat quietly, but looking round every so often. Jake
said, “Here,” and handed the boy the reins, fulfilling
his promise to let the child handle the horse. The
boy’s face lit up like it was Christmas. Jake looked
over at Toussaint who seemed not to be paying any at-
tention to the two of them.
They rode at an easy trot, sun shattering in the
water-filled pockmarks along the road, tufts of snow
sparkling in the grasses.
Finally they saw the buildings of Sweet Sorrow ris-
ing up out of the grasslands, the sun glinting off some
of the metal roofs, and for once Jake was glad to be
returning to this place. It was beginning to feel like
home in a way.
They came first to Toussaint’s lodge and Toussaint
pulled up, said, “You make up your mind what you’re
going to do with that one?”
“Not sure.” Then Jake said, “Son, slip on down
and stretch your legs while I talk to Mr. Trueblood
here.”
Toussaint handed the boy his reins and said, “How
about walking this animal over there to that water
tank and giving him a drink. You think you can do
that for me?”
Without speaking the boy did as asked.
“See, the thing is,” Jake said. “I could just take
him down to that orphanage in Bismarck, but that
would take about a week down there and back and I
feel like that’s time better spent trying to catch the
Swede before he decides to shoot anymore folks.”
“Then that’s what you need to do.”
“Yeah. I need to find him and I could use your help
on this since I don’t know shit about tracking.”
“And you think I do because I’m half Indian?”
“I was hoping.”
“I’m half French, too, don’t mean I like to eat
frogs.”
“You want to help or not?”
“This a paying job or you asking me to volunteer?”
“I can get the council to come up with some funds
for it.”
“Council,” Toussaint said derisively. “You mean
the one was headed up by Roy Bean who left the
other day for Texas? That group of paper collars who
have a hard time agreeing on whether rain is wet or
not?”
“Their money is as good as anyone else’s. You sud-
denly got particular about whose pocket you get paid
out of?”
“What the hell.” Toussaint had been pondering a
pretty silver ring he’d seen down at the jeweler’s a
month previous. Thought it might make a good peace
offering if he was to give something like that to
Karen. Till now he’d never had much need for money,
just what little it took to get by. But silver rings just
didn’t grow on trees. A job about now might not be
such a bad idea. Long as it wasn’t long term and he
wasn’t beholden to anyone. Besides, he told himself,
that damn Swede had it coming for what he did.
“I still need to find someone to watch the boy until
we catch the Swede and I can take him to Bismarck,”
Jake said.
“There’s Otis’s wife, but I don’t know if she’d take
to him. She doesn’t even take to Otis that well, much
less strangers.”
“Anyone else?”
Toussaint looked over at the boy, said, “Might be
some of these ranchers around here would take him in,
except he looks too thin and little to get much work
out of.”
“I’m not looking for someone to take him on as a
working hand.”
“What about that new schoolteacher, Mrs. Mon-
