Bertie Brown moved back down the bar and walked toward the kitchen. Booth followed her with his eyes until she disappeared into the kitchen. “Come on, Jesse, we need to go.” He didn’t wait to find out if Jesse was ready to leave but grabbed his arm to get him started. As soon as they were out the door, Jesse asked, “What in the hell lit a fire under your behind?”

“Just follow me,” Booth said, and went directly to the corner of the building, leaving Jesse to follow, still waiting for an explanation. Within seconds, they saw Bertie go across the alley between the saloon and the barbershop, walking behind the buildings. “That’s what I thought. We need to follow that woman,” Booth said to Jesse. “I think she’s gonna lead us right to Mr. Hawk.”

They hurried down the alley to the back corner of the barbershop in time to see Bertie striding deliberately behind the buildings. “She’s goin’ to the stables,” Jesse said when Bertie continued past the blacksmith’s shop. “That’s where he is!” They left the corner of the building and ran toward the stable, anxious to get there before Hawk could get away. Fueled by the fact that they were no longer running away from the relentless hunter, they were confident they would put an end to this problem for good.

“Hold up!” Booth whispered when she disappeared into the barn. “We go runnin’ in there wide-open, we’re liable to walk right into an ambush.”

“Circle around to the back of the barn,” Jesse said. “If he’s in there, she’s told him we’re comin’ by now. He’ll be waitin’ for us to come chargin’ in the front door of the barn.”

“You’re right,” Booth declared, and pointed toward a stand of pines behind the corral. They angled off toward the trees at a fast trot, their eyes on the back door of the stable in case Hawk decided to make a run for it. Once they reached the pine trees, they stopped to make sure they hadn’t been seen. When there was no indication that they had been spotted, they moved through the trees to the corral behind the barn, then took cover at the back corner. Kneeling by the corner post, they watched the back door of the barn. There were more than a dozen horses in the corral, and as dark as it was, they provided a screen of sorts. Anyone looking out the rear barn door would not likely see the two men kneeling behind the back rails. After a few minutes with no sign of Hawk sneaking out the back way, their concern turned to wondering if he had gone out the front while they were sneaking around the back. “Maybe he’s gone, maybe he ain’t,” Booth speculated. “He might be hunkered down in there waitin’ for us to come bustin’ through the front door.”