“We’re gonna have to track him down,” Booth declared again, this time even stronger. “We can’t wait around for him to get another chance to ambush one of us. He might be watchin’ out there right now, but as long as the three of us are here inside the cabin, there ain’t much he can do.”

“I ain’t gonna go far from the cabin when I have to get rid of this coffee I drank,” Trip stated, “and everythin’ else I ate is gonna have to stay right where it is till daylight.” He looked down at the body and asked, “What are we gonna do about ol’ Tater? We gonna bury him?”

“Not tonight, we ain’t,” Booth said.

“Well, let’s drag him out the door,” Jesse suggested. “We can leave him by the front door till mornin’.” That was good enough for the other two, so he and Trip each grabbed one of Tater’s boots and dragged him out the front door.

“Won’t have to worry about Tater’s snorin’ tonight,” Trip said when they came back inside and dropped the bar across the door.

* * *

While the three outlaws spent a watchful night inside a log cabin, the man who was the cause of their cautious fits of sleep was bedded down at the top of a steep ravine that ran up a heavily wooded foothill. He had been fortunate to find this campsite while there was still barely enough light to follow the tiny stream that ran down the ravine to join a larger stream at the bottom. He planned to make his base camp down where the two streams met. He estimated the camp to be about three and a half to four miles from Bodine’s trading post. There was grass there for Rascal, and the water was good. But at night, he would sleep up at the narrow top of the ravine, so anyone who might attack him would have to climb up to find him. It would take a better tracker than he was to find him at night, and if they did, Rascal was there to warn him. He fell asleep knowing there was one less killer in the gang of five that coldly slaughtered women and children. He was at peace with his part in it.

He awoke the next morning to the sound of Rascal drinking from the tiny stream near his bedroll. He sat up and looked around him to see how secure his campsite appeared to be in the light of day. He decided it was as good as he could expect to find. “Come on, boy, let’s go down to the bottom where you can get some good water,” he said to Rascal.