“I’m tryin’ to catch up with a couple of fellows that have caused a world of hurt to a lot of folks,” he said.

He didn’t have to say more before she interrupted. “Why are you always chasing outlaws and murderers? You’re not a lawman, are you?” When he shook his head, she continued, “Then why don’t you leave the job of catching outlaws to lawmen who are paid to do it?”

“It ain’t by choice,” he was quick to protest. “It just happens to fall in my lap.”

“Well, when it falls in your lap,” she insisted, “take it to the sheriff or some other lawman and dump it in theirs.”

“Sometimes there just ain’t any lawman handy,” he tried to explain, but she obviously didn’t accept that. So he told her more than he had anticipated telling her. He told her about the vicious massacre of the religious group near Fort Benton and the fact that, were it not for him, no one would be after the men who did it. “When we started out, I was scoutin’ for the cavalry patrol that was after those outlaws. After a while, the patrol had to return to Fort Ellis. There wasn’t anybody to keep after the outlaws but me. I didn’t have any choice.”

“And you’ve followed them to Helena?” she asked, still of the opinion that it was not up to him to do so. “And if they are here, what are you going to do, shoot them down?”

“Well, that ain’t the best way of handlin’ it,” he answered, while thinking that was exactly what he had in mind. “Is Porter Willis still the sheriff? Maybe I can get him to help if I see those outlaws in town.”

“Porter’s still the sheriff,” Sophie said. “But he’s not fully recovered from the shot he took in his belly.” She paused and raised an eyebrow as she added, “The last time you were in town.”

“I don’t reckon you’ve seen any new fellows in the dinin’ room in the last couple of days, have you?” he asked just in case Booth might have stopped in the hotel.

“Sure,” she replied. “We see new people in here all the time, don’t we, Martha? It’s hard to tell which ones are mass murderers. Maybe we should start asking.” She got up from the table then and went into the kitchen. Martha watched her till she went in the door, then shook her head solemnly as she filled Hawk’s coffee cup.

“I don’t mean to do it,” Hawk said to Martha, “but I always seem to get her riled up.”

“You sure do,” Martha agreed. She could have told him what she was thinking but decided not to. She gets riled up at you because she cares for you. You’re just too blind to see it.