versations when he was eating his breakfast. He
didn’t like for his eggs to get cold.
“What do they want?”
Brewster shrugged.
“I was just coming past when I seen them out front
and I asked what it was they needed and they said
they needed to see the lawman, Horn, and I said was
there anything I could do for them and they asked if I
was you and I said no I wasn’t and they asked me
where you was and I said I didn’t know and they said
if I saw you to tell you they was waiting for you.”
“But they didn’t say what they needed?”
“No sir, they didn’t.”
“Okay, I’ll swing by there.”
Zimmerman, the Cafe’s proprietor, came over with
a pot of coffee to refresh what was in Brewster’s cup.
“You vant some of dis, Marshal Horn?”
Jake declined and headed up toward the jail.
There were three of them standing out front
slouched against the wall of the jail. They watched
him like curious dogs. Jake had a bad feeling about
them from the start. They could be bounty hunters,
he told himself. Men sent to find him, kill him, or
bring him back to Denver to stand trial for murder.
He felt his muscles tense. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.
He’d die and maybe one or two of them. But it was
too late to do anything about it. Some events, maybe
all, were out of his control.
“I’m told you men wanted to see the marshal?”
They looked him over good.
“You him?”
“Depends on what you want?”
They traded glances with each other. The one
looked young, hardly more than seventeen, eighteen.
Soft brown whorls of hair grew on his cheeks and
chin. All had wide-set eyes and flat noses. He figured
them for brothers.
“We’re looking for someone,” the one doing the
talking said. Usually the talker was the leader. He fig-
ured if it came down to shooting, this is the man he’d
kill first, the one most dangerous.
“Who might it be you’re looking for?” Jake said.
“Fellow named William Sunday,” the man said.
“William Sunday,” Jake said, like he was trying to
recall the name.
“They’s a bounty on him for a boy he killed. We
came to collect it.”
“What makes you think he’s here in Sweet Sorrow?”
The talker looked at the others.
“We been after him two, three months already. It’s
what we do, find men who don’t want finding. And
this is where we heard he was.”
Jake shook his head.
“No, I think you’re mistaken. Nobody here by that
name.”
“Maybe he’s going by another name.”
“I know who William Sunday is,” Jake said. “If
he was here, I’d know it. I can tell you he’s not
here.”
“It wouldn’t be he is and you just ain’t saying be-
cause you’d like to collect that bounty yourself,
would it, Marshal?”
Jake eyed him coolly. The man had colorless eyes.
He wondered the nature of a man who had colorless
eyes. He’d read once that most gunfighters were
clear-eyed, or gray. Maybe it was true.
“You see this?” Jake said pulling back his coat so
the badge he was wearing was exposed. “If William
Sunday or any other wanted man were in town, don’t
you think I’d arrest him, have him locked up in that
jail already, reward or no?”
“Maybe you do have him locked up in there.”
Jake inserted the key into the door lock and swung
the door open and said, “Have a look for yourself.”
Zeb stepped in and saw the cell was empty. He
stepped back outside again.
“Don’t prove he ain’t in town.”
“I’ve got business to take care of,” Jake said and
turned and walked away. He could feel their stares on
his back. Fuck them, he thought.
He made a circuitous route over to Doc’s, checking
to make sure he wasn’t being followed, and slipped in
the back door. He called out: “Sunday, it’s me, Jake
Horn,” then stepped into the bedroom where he
found the gunfighter lying on his side curled up, his
face dotted with sweat, his mouth drawn into a gri-
mace of pain.
“There’s men here looking for you,” Jake said.
“How many?” Sunday said through gritted teeth.
“Three.”
“Then it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
“Time for it to end. You get hold of that attorney
about me buying this house?”
“What the hell you want a house for if you’re not
planning on being here to live in it?”
“Not for me, for Clara and the girls.”
“No,” Jake said. “I haven’t yet, but I will.”
“I’d be indebted if you could see it was taken care
