“They’ve moved a bit past the practical in Europe,” I said. “They’ve become civilized—some of them.”

“Cecily says the same,” Isinglass said. “Have you visited Europe?”

“Several times,” I admitted.

“I’ve not had the advantage,” Isinglass said. “I’ve been too busy buying up land.”

I felt rather low. A small wagon stood nearby—the feet of two dead men stuck out of the end of it. I recognized the boots of Hill Coe and of the Tadpole, Henry Knogle. No doubt the others were a little farther forward. Billy Bone might be dead, and Joe Lovelady.

Still, I felt no particular fear for my life at that moment. Isinglass seemed to be enjoying our little conversation. Seeing that my hands were shaking, he even poured me a cup of the hot, bitter coffee.

“You should have slept closer to the fire,” he said. “Maybe we can keep you for a schoolteacher. Had any experience in that line?”

Isinglass’s sudden interest in procuring a pedagogue took one of the Texans aback. He was a short fellow with a drooping upper lip and a quarrelsome manner.

“Why, the man’s a Yankee!” he declared. “He’s a pal of little Bill. It ain’t safe to leave a man like him alive. He might escape and get the law on us if he’s let to teach school.”

Isinglass didn’t welcome the interruption. He looked around at the man and his old eyes held a chill.

“When I require advice I’ll write off for it,” he said.

The quarrelsome Texan was too aroused to heed the warning in the old man’s eyes.

“We kilt all the rest of them damn scoundrels,” he argued. “I say kill this one too and leave no witnesses!”

“You can’t even count,” Isinglass informed him in a scornful tone. “That brash boy got away, and so did the cowboy who had sense enough to take his horse inside. I guess Mesty will catch the cowboy eventually, but it may take him a month. And who knows when we’ll next hear from that boy?”

He stood up wearily, walked over to the Texan, and held out his hand.

“What do you want?” the Texan asked, surprised.

“Your rifle, I need it for a minute,” Isinglass said.

The man handed over the Winchester, looking somewhat puzzled, and before he could move Isinglass clubbed him with it. He didn’t seem to move fast or swing hard but the thud when the barrel hit the man’s head is a sound I remember still.

“I despise loud talk this early,” Isinglass said. “In fact, loud talk is never welcome, but I do expect to be spared it on a peaceful morning when the sun is barely up.”

Another of the Texans knelt by the fallen man.

“My god, John’s dead,” he said. “He’s not drawing his breath no more.”