“All right,” Bodine said, relieved to think he wasn’t about to get shot after all. “I’ll see you get your money’s worth.” He turned his attention back to Mose’s body. “Come on, Tom, gimme a hand. We’ll carry old Mose outta here.” He and Tom picked up the body and started out the door when Bodine called back to Booth. “We got all Trip’s stuff at the barn. I’ll bring it to you. He wasn’t carryin’ any money.”

“Right,” Booth said, and winked at Jesse.

* * *

Two miles away, Hawk paused to listen when he heard the faint sound of shots fired. They were in a quick series of four and had come from the direction of Bodine’s. He continued listening for a while, but no more shots followed. He looked at the cup of coffee he had just poured and hesitated, but he knew he had to investigate the cause of the shots. “Damn,” he swore, took a few quick gulps of the hot liquid, and whistled for Rascal. After he put his fire out, he climbed up into the saddle and rode back around to the ridge where he had watched the trading post before.

The first thing he checked after climbing up on the ridge was the corral to make sure none of the horses were missing. This, even in spite of the fact that they would not have had much time to pack up and go since he was last there. He decided he had rushed off and left his coffee for nothing. But then he saw Bodine and Tom carrying a body out the saloon door, obviously the reason for the shots he had heard. From the ridge where he knelt, it was difficult to see who the dead man was. Hawk watched them as they carried the body across the yard and laid it down near the blacksmith’s shop. He recognized the body then. It was the little man who had hidden behind the forge with the blacksmith during the shooting before. More senseless killing, Hawk supposed. What, he wondered, could the insignificant little man have done to warrant his death? The thought made him even more impatient to end Booth’s trail of terror.