The horse theft was poorly planned, but there’s more to it, he feels sure. The Camera follows him, zooms in on his young blue face full of consternation as he climbs that scree that looks like lava cooling, quick up the scree of the opposite ridge, the Indian Spy’s ridge, though he is very tired now, depressed by his thoughts, not in the mood for sweating, climbing, or eating. His mind swimming. He is starved and angry. Anger is a state of mind, of course. Life is a state of mind. Death is a state of mind. But now, somehow, his fragile innards have died watching the murder of this stupid man. It is something inside him he never knew.

He arrives on the Indian Spy’s ridge just in time to hear Saul’s speeches. They were never heroes at all.

The Camera dollies in behind his ridge walk, which you know, kids, is always the fastest way for a hero in these parts to travel, rather than navigating those pesky zigzagging canyons way down there below. The Camera swings around to face him as he runs into the cob in the weeds by the lake at the top of the Switchbacks.

THE CAMERA: So, how much for your story?

THE KID: I want a million bucks.

The cob is injured. An outrage: a raw flap of flesh is hanging from his shoulder. More skin and hair is ripped away all over his body. It is revolting. It is all revolting.

THE CAMERA: That’s a lot of money.

THE KID: Take it or leave it.

Not weeping, but almost weeping. A moment of catharsis, perhaps, buckaroos?

He works the knots, frees the injured animal, leads him away along the ridge, downhill toward the Old Swede’s cabin. He sits to think, to rest, once, on the slope. Not too long. He thinks of Dan, a man he did not admire much. All is changed now with new ideas. The Deputy and now the cob abandoned and ripped apart. These people are sloppy. These people commit errors one after another. He will never be like them. They are old. The old are soft. Too much weeping. They wear scars and patches they do not deserve.

THE CAMERA: What’s wrong with you?

THE KID: I’m tired of your pansy-ass questions.