Bull sprawls on his bed, a plastic bag filled with ice pressed to his forehead. Fuck the fucking rovers for dragging him into their shit. The fight they’re waiting for could wreck this joint, and the few bucks he’s made off them won’t be compensation for that. He’s been thinking about moving to the Keys, and tonight’s convinced him he should. He’s got enough money stashed to buy property there, another motel, a legit one this time. Of course in Florida there’s always the danger of running into someone holding a grudge, but plastic surgeons can work miracles, and if he lost some weight, his own mother wouldn’t recognize him.

Outside, Bob stands and stretches. He’s never been able to sit for long, couldn’t even make it through a movie when he was a kid without getting up two or three times. He leaves the cover of the tamarisk carrying only his pistol and walks out to the road. There’s not a car in sight.

He thinks about what he’ll do if Jesse doesn’t show up tonight. If the Fiends couldn’t find the guy in Phoenix, they won’t find him here. It might be time for him to go out on his own. He won’t have anyone watching his back, but he also won’t have to follow Antonia’s orders or worry about anybody but himself. He’ll be able to put all his time and energy into tracking down and dusting Jesse before Jesse finds and dusts him.

He stands on the dotted line in the center of the road and lights a cigarette, takes in the glow of Vegas on the horizon. Gravel crunching in the parking lot snaps his head around. It’s Jesse, toting a shotgun, creeping up on the cabins.

“He’s here!” Bob shouts and fires his pistol. Jesse turns the shotgun on him. He drops to the ground, but enough pellets get him that his knees won’t work. He drags himself out of the road using only his arms.

Real Deal, Antonia, and Elijah fling open their doors. They spot Jesse and cut loose with their guns. Jesse sends a blast Antonia and Elijah’s way then charges Real Deal, firing at him on the run.

Bull, cowering on the floor of his cabin, decides Fuck this and flees out the back door. Someone shooting from the old trailer hits him in the leg. He howls in pain and falls hard. He’s still howling when another bullet destroys his heart.

Real Deal dives sideways in time to avoid too much damage from Jesse’s hail of buckshot. With a joyous roar, he leaps on him when he barrels into the cabin, and they go down in a snarl of arms and legs, falling into the narrow space between the bed and the wall, Jesse’s shotgun sandwiched between them.