“Where’s Blue?” Booth asked when he saw the horse with an empty saddle. Tater repeated his version of the confrontation with the mysterious man in the canyon. “Why didn’t you bring Blue back with you?” Booth asked.

“He didn’t wanna be moved,” Tater lied. “He was hurt too bad to be moved. Told me to ride back here to get you, said he was dyin’, so I did what he wanted me to.”

“Damn,” Booth swore. This was a situation he hadn’t counted on. “Did you get a good look at the man who shot him?” Tater said there wasn’t time to get much of a look at him, but he was a big fellow, wearing a buckskin shirt. “White man?” Booth asked, and Tater said that he was. That was not especially good news. Booth would rather have heard it was an Indian Tater and Blue had run into. But it was a white man, so now the question he had was, was the man a lone hunter or a lawman? And if he was a lawman, was he alone, or part of a posse?

“I know what you’re thinkin’, Booth,” Jesse said. “I’m thinkin’ the same thing. But I don’t see no way a posse could be on our trail this soon—probably not at all. That feller coulda been anybody from that town, just out tryin’ to get a deer. It was just bad luck, most likely. Let’s saddle up and go get Blue. If that feller’s still around, we’ll settle up with him. If I had to bet on it, I’d bet he’s long gone from that canyon.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Booth allowed, although he was still thinking of other possibilities. He looked back at Tater, frowning as he asked, “What do you think, Tater? You think Blue’s gonna make it?”

Tater hesitated a moment before answering. “I swear, Booth, I think ol’ Blue’s dead. He was dyin’ when I came back to tell you. If he wasn’t, I’da brought him back somehow.”

When Booth hesitated for several moments, his brother asked, “What are you thinkin’, Booth?”

“I’m thinkin’ about the possibility that there might be a posse settin’ out in those woods hopin’ we’ll come back to get Blue.” When Jesse looked as if about to question that possibility, Booth continued, “I know what we just said about the odds against a posse gettin’ on our trail, but if Blue’s done for already, why even take the chance? I feel bad about Blue, but this is a risky business we’re in, and the only way to win is to make sure you don’t take risky chances.” He asked Tater again, “You feel pretty sure Blue’s dead, right?”