They turned toward her shack, their hands still touching, and began to walk down the dusty road. On the horizon, the sun was low in the cloudless sky. It was going to be another hot evening; they would eat whatever was in the cellar for dinner so that the shack would stay cool throughout the night.

“You put in for old Edmonds?” she asked him. “That sure was something.”

“I did. Didn’t want to—pretty sure my own pa was the reason why his son ain’t around no more. Understand why he came at me.” He walked next to her and their fingers brushed up against one another. The sun peeked out from the dusty mountain ridge beyond the valley. “But I don’t like it one bit. What was going on in the square? That were enough to make anyone act crazy. Them Deputies riled everyone up. Ain’t Edmonds’ fault he got swallowed up by anger.”

“We all got anger. Just need to try to keep it inside. Not let anyone see.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?”

“You put in? Edmonds struck you, too.”

She did not answer at first. She wanted to tell Arbuckle that it was the Deputy that had killed her mother. She could warn him, tell him how the Deputy said like his pa. But there she was inches from Arbuckle and all she could think was can’t lose you too.

“A Deputy came by the depot today. He ain’t give me much choice.”

“How you mean?” Arbuckle asked.

“I said one, he wrote four.”

“But he can’t do that!”

“He can do whatever he wants. They all can.”

“What if you went to Deputy Daniels and told them that—”

“There’s more,” she interrupted. She spoke quickly, let the words rush out of her mouth as though she might suddenly lose her nerve. “I’m gonna tell you something, but you can’t go and do nothing. Can’t say nothing neither. Promise me.”

“Well I can’t exactly promise—I mean it depends on what—”

“Promise.”

“Alright, alright. I promise,” he said and held up his hand. “But I don’t like where this is headed. It’s bad, ain’t it?”

“Not sure I can say for sure,” she said and brought her hands together in front of her.

“Go on, then,” Arbuckle said.

“It was him.”

“Who was him?”

“The Deputy that came to see me today. It was him. One from that night.”

She brought her shaking hand to her eyes hoping to flick away the tears before Arbuckle could see, but he reached out and put his hand on her forearm, stopping her there in the road.

“How sure are you?”

“There’s four lines across his face from where I scratched him. Back then, in my living room. I know it’s him. Got to be.”

Arbuckle straightened up and looked past Lady Mae as if he were studying the empty shacks behind her and the hills and mountain peaks beyond. He kept hold of her arm with one hand and then, turning his eyes back to her, he wiped the tears from her cheek with the other. He let out a long sigh and scratched at his beard.