Pritchard covered the saloon’s entrance with a Henry rifle while Ditch used their neckerchiefs to bandage his friend’s leg. Pritchard sustained a deep grazing wound through the meat of his thigh, but the bullet didn’t hit any major blood vessels. It would eventually need to be cauterized, but wouldn’t take him out of the fight for now.

“Better get around to the rear of the Sidewinder,” Pritchard said to Ditch, “before Gaines gets the notion to sneak out the back door with Idelle. Fire a shot to let me know you’re in place.” Ditch nodded and ran off with his rifle. Less than a minute later, a single shot was heard.

“Eli Gaines,” Pritchard shouted at the saloon. “You’re all alone and cornered. You’ve got guns facing you, front and back. Give it up and come on out.”

“You go to hell, Samuel Pritchard!” Gaines hollered back from inside the saloon. “You try anything, and I’ll plug your little sister. Your bluff about not giving a damn if she gets killed might have worked on old Horace, but it won’t work on me. I know you care about her. She’s the reason why you came back.”

“You’re wrong, Eli,” Pritchard lied. “When she dies, I become the only living heir to Shipley’s estate. All of Atherton becomes mine. That’s the reason I came back. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Sheriff Foster: go ahead and shoot her. You’d be doing me a favor.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Do you know how your brother died?” Pritchard asked.

“Suppose you tell me.”

“He burned alive,” Pritchard said, “howlin’ and twitchin’ like a frog on a skillet.”

“Assuming you’re tellin’ the truth,” Gaines said, “what do I care how he died?”

“Because you’re going out the same way,” Pritchard said. “You think I’m bluffin’ about not caring whether Idelle dies? You won’t when I set that saloon on fire.”

This time, there was no response from Gaines.

Pritchard limped over to a hay wagon parked nearby and easily lifted out a bale of hay with one hand. He crossed the street and tossed the bale onto the sidewalk, directly in front of the saloon’s half doors.

“Hold on a minute,” Gaines said, an edge of fear in his voice. “Don’t light that hay.”

“You called me a liar, Eli. All I have to do is strike a match, and you’ll find out who’s tellin’ the truth. If you still won’t believe me, once that building starts to burn, you could always try for the back door and catch a bullet.”

Long seconds of silence ensued. “I’m comin’ out,” Gaines finally said, “to talk. Hold your fire.”

“Come on,” Pritchard said.