“Well,” said Paul, “here we are. Sure doesn’t feel like home.”

“Ten years is a long time,” Ditch said.

“A lifetime,” Pritchard said.

“What are you gonna do?” Paul asked Pritchard.

“I’m going to find Idelle and Ma, if they’re still around,” Pritchard said. “Then I’m going to pay a visit to Burnell Shipley and Eli Gaines. There’s going to be blood. I won’t take it personally if you boys would rather steer clear of me.”

“I’ve stuck with you this far,” Ditch said. “We’ve been through some bloody times, you and me. I think I’ll stick with you today.”

“Me, too,” Paul said. “I’d like to find time to visit’s Pa’s grave, though.”

“We will,” Ditch said. “But we’ve got a score to settle first.”

Several years back, just as the SD&P was beginning to prosper, Ditch sent a wire from Fort Worth to Atherton inquiring at the newspaper office about his father. He’d planned to send money for a stagecoach ticket to Texas and have him join them at the ranch. He and Paul were informed, via a return telegram, that their father had died during an influenza outbreak the previous winter and was buried in the town’s cemetery.

“Be honored to have you along,” Pritchard said, “but if you boys don’t mind, I believe I’ll remain Joe Atherton a while longer.”

“I understand,” Ditch said.

“Sure thing,” Paul said.

Their first stop was Shipley’s Mercantile and General Store. The sign was still the same, but the store itself, and the warehouse behind it, had been renovated and expanded since they’d left. They found Mr. Manning, who’d gone from old to ancient, behind the counter.

“Good afternoon,” Ditch said. “We’re looking for someone. We figured as the storekeeper, you’d probably know just about everyone in town. Her name is Idelle Pritchard.”

“I know her, all right,” Manning said. “What do you want with her?”

“That’s our business,” Pritchard said. “Where is she?”

“I don’t much like your tone,” Manning said, squinting up at Pritchard. “Nor your looks. Get out of my store and find somebody else to tell you where she is.”

Pritchard grabbed the old clerk by the collar, and with one hand pulled him over the counter. The terrified shopkeeper found himself nose to nose with Pritchard, and his feet off the ground.

“Tell me where she is,” Pritchard said, “or I’ll tear this place down around your ears.”

“Take it easy,” Ditch said, looking nervously around at the other customers who were watching.

“She’s a-at the s-schoolhouse,” Manning stuttered. “She t-teaches school.”

“Thank you, kindly,” Pritchard said, smiling and tipping his hat. He released the old store clerk, who slunk to the ground on shaky legs, and walked out.

“Are you okay?” Ditch asked, as he and Paul struggled to keep up with Pritchard’s determined stride.