He watched Tom walk back to the store and go inside. There was no one else outside the store. There was someone over at the blacksmith’s shop. He recognized Reuben Pressley, but not the man with him. A second look at the little fellow told him he was not one of Booth’s men. He wondered then about the pistol shot he thought he had heard. There was no evidence of anything having happened in that calm setting. He decided at that moment that he was not willing to sit and wait for the three to come out of Bodine’s. It’s time to bring them outside, he thought, got up from his kneeling position on the riverbank, and went directly to the corral. While keeping an eye out for anyone coming toward him, he opened the gate wide and walked in among the horses.

* * *

Sitting at a table on the saloon side of the trading post, Bodine’s three special guests were passing some time in a three-handed poker game. Trip Dawson’s streak of winning hands was beginning to wear on the nerves of the two brothers. So, when he spread a ten-high straight before him on Jesse’s call, Jesse threw his two pair in disgust. “You ain’t that lucky! I swear, if I knew for sure you’ve been cheatin’, I’d shoot you!” Seeing Tom Pointer walk in the door, he invited him to make it a four-man game. Tom wisely declined, saying he had chores to do, and went back outside.

Jesse’s frustration served only to fan Trip’s confidence. He threw his head back and released a gleeful cackle. “You just ain’t used to playin’ cards with a real poker player,” he taunted.

“The sun don’t shine on the same dog’s behind all the time,” Booth declared. “Deal the cards.”

It was Jesse’s deal, so he gathered up the cards and started to shuffle. “It’s gonna be different this hand,” he informed Trip. Laughing in response to Jesse’s complaining, he was about to make another boastful prediction when they heard the shots outside.

“What tha hell . . . ?” Booth blurted, and all three stood up immediately, their hands finding their six-guns, all eyes toward the door when Tom Pointer came running back inside.

“The horses!” Tom exclaimed. “They’re stealin’ the horses!”

“Who is?” Bodine demanded.

“I don’t know,” Tom said, “but the horses are outta the corral and they’re scattered all over the bluffs.

“Injuns, I bet!” Bodine responded. “We ain’t had no trouble with Injuns in I don’t know when. Most likely them damn Blackfoot. I shoulda knowed when that Hawk feller showed up here, some of them Blackfoot was snoopin’ around.”