“Let’s get this straight,” Nix ticked off points on his fingers. “You went to the Dunn ranch without authorization. You placed yourself in jeopardy by acting on your own. You disobeyed a direct order to shoot Doolin on sight. Does that about cover it?”
Tilghman waggled one hand. “I reckon you hit the high points.”
“Careful with your tone of voice, Mr. Tilghman. I will not tolerate insubordination.”
“Try a civil tone of voice yourself. You want respect, then give it.”
Nix swelled up like a toad. “Don’t push me too hard. I hired you and I can fire you.”
“Tell you what,” Tilghman said bluntly. “Anytime you want my badge, all you have to do is ask.”
“Hold on!” Thomas broke in, turning from the window. “Just back off before things get out of hand. That goes for both of you.”
“Indeed?” Nix said stiffly. “Are you issuing the orders around here now?”
“Not orders,” Thomas said with restraint. “I’m talkin’ common, ordinary horse sense. We’ll get nowhere fightin’ amongst ourselves.” He paused, looking from one to the other. “Let’s stick to fixin’ Doolin’s little red wagon.”
Nix took a deep breath, collected himself. “All right,” he said. “What’s to be done now that Doolin has escaped?”
“Who said he’d escaped?” Tilghman asked. “Odds are he’s still at the Dunn place.”
“Really?” Nix said with skepticism. “After your surprise visit, I hardly think he’d hang around.”
“Well, first off, he doesn’t know we know he uses the Dunn place as a hideout. So there’s no reason for him to run.”
“Prudence would dictate otherwise. But go on with what you were saying.”
Tilghman ignored the interruption. “Doolin probably brought the gang together to pull another job. Depending on his timetable, they might still be there. Or they might come back there after pulling the job.”
“You got a point,” Thomas said thoughtfully. “Leastways where Doolin’s concerned. He’d likely want to see his wife again.”
“So?” Nix prompted. “What are you suggesting?”
“Another raid,” Thomas said. “Bill and me could make it up there by late tonight. I vote we hit them first thing tomorrow mornin’.”
Nix regarded him a moment. “We don’t have time to get Madsen here from El Reno. But on the other hand, two against eight make for poor odds. I think we should deputize some of the local officers.”
“Count me out,” Thomas said bitterly. “We’d more ’n likely wind up with another bloodbath like Ingalls. I want no part of it.”
“Heck’s right,” Tilghman cut in. “You’ll recollect we told you the same thing before the raid on Ingalls. Let the two of us handle it.”
“Suppose I do?” Nix said pointedly. “And suppose you have another crack at Doolin? Will you kill him?”
Tilghman held his gaze. “Any man deserves a warning, and that includes Doolin. But if he resists, I’ll get the first shot.”
Nix sounded weary. “You have a way of making your own rules. I’d think orders would mean more to a lawman.”
“Guess that all depends on the orders. Even a lawman’s got to live with himself.”
“So it appears.” Nix summoned a tight smile. “Gentlemen, I wish you good hunting. Bring me Bill Doolin—dead.”
Outside the office, Tilghman and Thomas made their way down the stairs. On the street they paused to watch a horse-drawn trolleycar clang past. The sight seemed curiously at odds with their backcountry pursuit of outlaws.
“You’re a hard one,” Thomas said with amusement. “Thought you were gonna give Nix a heart attack.”
“Him and his orders,” Tilghman said heavily. “I’d wager he’s yet to kill his first man. Doubt he’s got the stomach for it.”
“Most don’t,” Thomas allowed. “Sounds easy till you’re set to pull the trigger. Guess that’s why there’s fellers like us.”
Tilghman considered a moment. “Tell me the truth, Heck,” he said finally. “Would you have back-shot Doolin?”
“I’d have been sorely tempted.”
“Yeah, but would you have done it?”
“Probably not,” Thomas admitted. “Like you said, a man’s got to live with himself. I wouldn’t be partial to that kind of dream.”
Tilghman looked surprised. “You dream about the men you’ve killed?”
“Only on bad nights. How about you?”
“Once a month or so. Nothing regular.”
Thomas laughed. “We ought not let Nix hear us talkin’ this way. He’d figure we’d lost our nerve.”
“Guess he would,” Tilghman said, grinning. “’Course, for a brave soul like him, what’s another dead man?”
“Ink on paper, my friend. A nice, big headline.”
An hour later they rode out of Guthrie. The trail, once again, led toward Council Creek.
* * *
Before dawn they moved into position. Thomas was hidden in the treeline by the creek and Tilghman was directly opposite the dugout. They settled down to await sunrise.
Their plan was simple. From their positions, they were afforded an interlocking field of fire on the storm cellar. When the gang emerged for breakfast, Tilghman would order them to surrender. At the first sign of a fight, both lawmen would open fire on Doolin. The gang, with their leader dead, would almost certainly scatter and run.
Tilghman briefly had considered the same plan yesterday morning. Yet he had discarded it just as quickly because of Neal Brown. His friend could have provided covering fire, but Brown lacked the experience for a pitched gun battle. Today, should the gang fight rather than run, Tilghman was confident that Thomas would hold his own. Hidden in the treeline, firing on men in the open, there was no question of the outcome.
Shortly after sunrise George Dunn stepped through the door of the house. He walked directly to the corral and forked hay to the milling horses. Then, his morning chore completed, he returned to the house and disappeared inside. There was no sign of Bee Dunn, even though smoke funneled from the chimney. Nor was there anything to indicate that the bunkhouse in the dugout was occupied. The stovepipe on the roof stood as further proof. No smoke appeared.
Tilghman waited until full sunrise. Finally, troubled that their plan had gone awry, he circled back through the trees to the creek. He found Thomas leaning against a tree, watching
