Saul turned to the cabin now. He rose from the cob and walked to the smoking face of it. He whistled, listened. He carried the .270. The rifle tipped up and down as he paced. He scanned the hollow. The sun dropped west, just a ball of white. Bowman dug in his saddlebag. Cashews. The window had fallen out. Saul lifted a piece of glass, dropped it.

“I could use some help,” Maul said. “Kettle. Spatula, one sleeping bag but very wet.” He flung it out. “Dutch oven, no lid. Can I have a nut?”

“No you can’t,” Bowman said.

The sun slid deeper into cloud. The air cooled. An island of roof had frisbeed across the clearing. Bowman kicked the flame out. Saul stared at the cabin. Ella made a list in her book. Flint striker. Wax cotton balls.

“Get back to the mules,” Saul barked, kicked the cockeyed door away. The woodstove was enormous and potbellied, an old army model with a foundry stamp from Dayton: gray, matronly, in an iron skirt. The big table had burned fast. One leg survived. Dan followed Saul but stopped at the doorway.

“Any cans?” Maul called.

“And who would eat soup from an old can?” Bowman said.

“A joke.”

“You weren’t joking, fat man.”

“I was.”

“Poison,” Bowman said. “Those cans.”

“I’d smell it,” Maul said.

“Botulism has no scent.” Bowman winced, bent to his leg.

“Buck up, buttercup.”

“Time to quit this!” Saul called to the bluffs. Saul’s jeans were smoking. “Hey you!” he yelled.

“She’s gone,” Ella said. “Don’t speak to her.”

“You hear me?” Saul called. He kicked the stovepipe elbow. “You killed the cob!” he called. “We’re coming after you for payment now!”

Echo from yellow bluffs to yellow bluffs.

“Give me some room,” he said as if someone were crowding him. “He was never the right speed for her!” he roared.

“The young are stupid,” Bowman said. He was brushing the chestnut now, weight on the good leg. “Love is chemicals only. Hormones, regretted later.”

“Wrong from the start,” Saul said.

“Could go on back,” Maul said.

“You all go back,” Dan said, watching Saul while everyone else watched him.

“What we need now,” Saul called between his hands, “is a mutually agreeable resolution!”

A horse whinnied at the creek. Maul struck off to see about it.

“The pit is the past!” Saul said. “The cob can be too!”

“She’s ten miles gone,” Ella said, smiled. “You look stupid.”

“Stupid.”

“To speak like she’s listening ever.”

“The cob is dead,” Saul said. “What are you smiling at?”

“I’m not smiling,” Dan said.

Saul’s face was very red, very worn out. His hat was hanging from the hand that wasn’t clutching the stock of the .270.

“Get out of there,” Ella said. “You’ll melt your cuffs.”

Dan was in the doorway. “Maybe we should split.”