“You wounded my mother. You killed my old daddy,” Farley shouted at him. “Now pick up that pistol and die like a man.”

Clyde hunched over, sobbing. “Oh God. Don’t.” He twisted around, trying to find Rusty. “Shannon, help me. Don’t let him do it.”

Andy did not know whether to pity the man or walk over and spit on him. He looked at Rusty, seeking Rusty’s reaction.

Rusty walked forward to stand beside Clyde. “Farley, you’ve killed Buddy. One ought to be enough. I need Clyde to stay alive.”

Farley hesitated, then leveled his pistol almost in Clyde’s face. “I need him dead worse than you need him alive.”

Rusty stepped between the two men. “I said one is enough. You’d better get on your horse and ride. There’s a bunch of state police comin’ around the courthouse.”

Farley did not appear to believe him until he heard the captain shout. He gave Clyde a poisonous look. “All right, Shannon. But whatever you need him for, you better take care of it quick, because I’ll be back.”

He ran to his horse. He spurred out between two buildings and was gone. The captain called for his men to get their horses, but it wrould take them a few minutes.

A few minutes was all Farley Brackett needed.

Rusty reached down and took hold of Clyde’s collar. “Get up from there. You’re goin’ over to the courthouse with me and sign some papers.”

Clyde had quit sobbing. He resisted Rusty’s strong pull. “I ain’t signin’ nothin’.”

“You will. I know where Farley’s goin’. Mess with me and I’ll take you to him.”

Andy knew that was a bluff, but he kept a straight face. Rusty too, could play the trickster.

Reluctantly Clyde got up onto wobbly legs. “You wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t turn a man over to somebody like Farley.”

“I will if you don’t dot every i and cross every t just like Judge Burmeister tells you.”

It took about an hour for the judge to write out the deed and for all parties to sign it. Clyde’s signature was shaky but legal. Done, Rusty said, “Judge, after I get the place cleaned up, I’d like you to come out and see it. We’ll barbecue a hog.”

“That would make me glad, Private Shannon. Glad indeed.”

Rusty and Andy escorted Clyde to his horse. Clyde was still in shock, his gaze roaming up and down the street as if he expected Farley Brackett to come charging back any minute. He asked, “What we goin’ to do about Buddy?”

Rusty said, “The county will take care of the buryin’. If I was you I’d leave before Farley shows up again and buries you. I wouldn’t stop runnin’ ‘til I got to Louisiana. Maybe even Mississippi.”