Ella scooped snow into the pot, cut poles with a knife and flung the ripped tarp over the top pole. Dan stood. He leaned on the tree. He watched Ella work, a blue flame produced by the flint striker and waxed cotton balls and a dial on the one-burner, one canister of white gas that had been the deputy’s. The flame rose weak, hesitating. Dan took the .270 from the sorrel’s scabbard. He lifted it to his shoulder, left the headlamp on. His thumb moved on the safety, and Saul stood up, his headlamp aimed into Dan.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“I’m aiming a rifle at you.”

“I’m asking a deeper question.”

“This world is bothering me.”

“I’ve got the very same feeling.”

Ella crouched over the one-burner now, not cooking or stirring the pot of snow. The horses rustled in some bumper-dance. Juniper was getting crushed. She could smell it.

“Put it down, darlin’,” she said.

“Shut up,” Saul said. “Stay out of this.”

“I’m not your darlin’,” Dan said.

“Ah,” she said. “Saul is.”

“My expectations are too high,” Dan said, forgetting her.

“Let’s clear this up,” she said, but listless, no one heard it, waiting for her blood to rise and engage, waiting for someone new to interrupt. Always waiting. She stared into the dark over Dan’s shoulder. The blue-ring flame hissed and warmed her hands, a crown of heat on the little stove. “We’ll work on fixing it,” she said without saying it.

“Sit down,” Dan said and Saul crouched. “This will be a kind of suicide.”

“Okay,” Saul said.

Ella touched the pot and her hand sprang back. A tiny sea was foaming between aluminum shores, an island was made of snow, then submerged, subsumed.

“Little Danny won’t do it anyway,” she said, searching for the lost island at the bottom of the pot. “He let Shaw fuck her in the ass in the bedroom. You’ll live to be a hundred.”

It was a new tactic. Dan turned the rifle on her for a moment, but Saul was the main event. “Ginny’s coming,” he said. “I saw her today coming down.”

“Good to know,” Saul said.

“We forgave each other.”

“Wonderful news,” Saul said. “Let’s all go home then.”

“Put the rifle down,” Ella laughed. “No need for it.”

“Maybe this was the last night of the world,” Dan said.

“That would be okay with me,” Saul said. “The world could stop spinning here and now. But, you know, it probably won’t.”

“If it stops spinning right now,” Dan said, “it’ll be night forever from here on out.”

“I follow you,” Saul said.

“No more sunrise and sunset. Dark stays dark. Light stays light.”

“Yes,” Saul said. “I know. I can see that.”

“Ready or not, we’d be nocturnal creatures overnight.”

“I can see your logic. Makes perfect sense.”

“Can you put that rifle down to discuss this,” Ella said.