“My God in heaven,” Gala said. “What next?”

Stone got the fireplace tongs, picked up the snake, and dragged it outside, surprised at how heavy it was. He could not reach around the body of the thing with one hand. He flipped open a box where a garden hose was stored, removed the hose, and packed the snake’s body in it and closed the lid, to keep the coyotes out.

Back in the room, Gala was still sitting up in bed. “May I go to the bathroom now? I really need to go to the bathroom.”

“Sure, go ahead.” It was only when she had left the room that it occurred to him that there could be more than one snake in the house. He followed her down the hall, poker at the ready, listening for another rattle. Satisfied that there were no more reptiles in the house, he went back to bed, but left the pistol and the poker on the bedside table, within ready reach.

Gala went back to sleep immediately; it took Stone an hour.

—

Billy Barnett landed Peter’s Citation Mustang at Santa Fe in the early afternoon, rented a nondescript car with a GPS, and drove away, not bothering to ask directions of anyone. He didn’t want someone to remember having given somebody directions to the Bonanza Creek Movie Ranch.

He found Bonanza Creek Road, and soon came to the ranch. There was a place for public parking, and he left the car there and followed the signs to the tour bus, which was loading when he got there. He was dressed in khakis, sneakers, a tan windbreaker, and a baseball cap with no name embroidered on it, and cheap sunglasses. He paid the man at the bus door and went to the rear of the bus, where there were a number of empty seats. He didn’t want conversation.

The bus was electric and drove slowly down the town’s main street, while the driver pointed out the saloons, the sheriff’s office, the hotel, the stable, the blacksmith’s shop, and a corral with half a dozen horses in it. The driver mentioned that the gunfight at the O.K. Corral had been filmed there more than once.

The bus continued off the main street and it was revealed that some of the buildings were simply facades, with nothing behind them.

Then they went back to the main street and parked in front of the saloon, which turned out to be beautifully complete and heavily furnished with a large nude over the bar, a painting of Custer’s Last Stand nearby, a huge mahogany bar, manned by a bartender in period clothes, and a poker game of movie extras in costume. A player piano ground away in a corner, playing “Oh, Them Golden Slippers,” and the tourers were treated to a draft beer on the house.

“Are they not filming today?” Billy asked the bartender.