Younger had clamped one hand to his side. That half of his fancy western shirt was soaked with blood. But Tim seemed to be breathing all right, he was conscious, alive.

“Get on the phone, Glyn,” he told her. “Call nine-one-one, tell them we’ve got a gunshot wound. We need an ambulance and the police.”

Glynis got up from her chair and started for the phone. She made a swift detour, though, and filched her digital recorder from Perez’s jacket pocket. Then she went to the telephone.

Perez moaned softly. His legs stirred, then his eyes opened. Focusing on Jake, he muttered, “The three fuckin’ musketeers.”

With the phone on her ear, Glynis reported from the bar, “They say they’ll have a hard time getting here through the blizzard.”

“But they’re sending an ambulance?”

“And a highway patrol car.”

“Did you tell them there’s two armed men outside?”

But just as Jake asked that he heard the growl of a car engine starting up. They’ve decided to get out of here, he thought. I wonder how far they’ll get through the snow.

“Bring that phone here,” Younger said, wincing with pain. “I’ve got to call the big rig.”

“You just sit there,” Glynis said, “while I find something to use for bandages.”

“Bring me the phone!” Younger insisted. He started to push himself up from the chair.

“No!” Glynis shouted. “Sit. Here’s the phone.” She crossed the room swiftly, the telephone cord trailing behind her. It didn’t quite reach, so Glynis put the phone down on the floor and pushed Younger’s chair close enough to it.

Jake stood in the middle of the room, keeping watch on Monster and Perez. Glancing at the cold stone fireplace, Jake wished the logs in it were real. We could use some heat in here, he said to himself.

Grimacing with pain, Younger was snapping orders into the phone. “Skeleton crew or no skeleton crew, you get that damned rig working! Start her up! Get your butt into the control booth and start the fire-up procedure. Stay on the line and I’ll talk you through it.”

Perez lay on his back on the floor, feeling his jaw where Jake had slugged him. It looked swollen.

“You busted my tooth,” he mumbled. His lips were bloody.

Monster sat near him, sullenly mopping the blood off his face with a reddened sodden handkerchief. The brass table lamp was on its side, several paces away from him. Jake noticed a long gouge in it, where one of Perez’s bullets had hit.

“I don’t feel so good,” Monster said, his head hanging between his knees.

Concussion, Jake thought. I banged him really hard.

All of a sudden Monster puked all over his shoes. The noise and stench made Jake’s stomach turn.

“Hey, Jake,” Younger called. “Turn on the fireplace before we turn into icicles, for chrissake.”