Just as skeptical as Dewey had been, Porter was immediately suspicious that these were the two men that Hawk had tracked from Wolf Creek. His problem was, he wasn’t sure what to do about it, even if there was anything he could do about it. There were no “wanted” papers out for two men meeting their description. All he had was Hawk’s story about the two men, and Hawk was not a representative of the law. He couldn’t arrest them, because there was no law against asking where someone was.

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you any more than Dewey has,” Porter said. “John Hawk doesn’t come through here very often. And when he does, he never stays long. He was here this evenin’, got into a shootin’ with some stranger, and killed him. It wasn’t his fault, the stranger came after him, but I told him it would be best if he was to leave town. I ain’t got no idea where he went when he left town.” He glanced at the pained expression on Dewey’s face before looking back at Booth to judge whether or not they believed him. He wasn’t sure, so he hoped Hawk didn’t decide to come back to the saloon for a drink.

Undecided at this point whether to suspect the sheriff and the bartender of lying about the whereabouts of Hawk, Booth wondered why they would want to protect him. He suspected they might have some reason to, otherwise, they would have given him up without concern. It was then that a woman behind the bar caught his attention. He had paid her no mind when he and Jesse first walked up to the bar. She had been at the other end of the long bar, seeming to pay no attention to them. He realized now that she had gradually moved up closer to them, and when the sheriff came over to the bar, she moved closer still. He was sure it was so she could hear the conversation between them and the sheriff. He suddenly had a hunch she could be of some help to them. He surprised Jesse then when he abruptly declared, “Well, I reckon we won’t get a chance to visit with our old friend this trip. Maybe we’ll just have to have a drink and get on our way.” He motioned to Dewey to pour another drink. “How ’bout a drink, Sheriff? I’m buyin’.”

“Thanks just the same,” Porter declined. “I reckon I’d best keep a clear head.”