Lillie pinged the chicken, knocking down the targets and jacking a new round into her rifle time after time. Quinn had met few who could shoot like Lillie Virgil. Her whole being seemed to take on a stillness and calm when she went to work. There was no one better on overwatch when you headed in to deal with bad guys.

“Been thinking on your situation,” Lillie said, now aiming at an old skillet dangling from a tree. “How about you let me reason with E. J. Royce? The son of a bitch nearly pisses his pants when he sees me coming.”

“Not worth your time,” Quinn said.

Lillie squeezed off a third shot, the skillet twirling, the sound of the quick ping filling the air. Quinn lifted the cigar again and watched Lillie standing there, arms outstretched, her muscles tight and flexed as she held the gun and sought her next mark. He blew out the smoke, Lillie scanning over the many targets on the grassy knoll, the smell of woodsmoke coming from far off in the hills.

“I don’t like how things went down with our ole buddy Wes,” Lillie said. She aimed for a tricky one on the far edge of the hill, the whole two-fifty away from where they stood. “Not one goddamn bit.”

She fired the last round toward a tall target, dropping it as fast and hard as a bad man sneaking through the woods. Lillie slowly lowered the gun and set it onto a carrying case on a wooden table. Quinn set his cigar on the rim of an old coffee can. Someone earlier had been spitting sunflower seed shells into it, the insides half filled with rainwater and shells.

“Be nice if we could find the guys,” Quinn said.

“How’d it go at the Rez?” Lillie asked.

“’Bout like you would expect,” Quinn said. “No one seemed to know our guys. And they just laughed at the composites I brought. Can’t really blame them. Nobody got a good look at them. And the cameras weren’t any help with everything busted up.”

“Maybe y’all should think about updating the jail from 1873,” Lillie said. “Wasn’t that when it was built?”

“Nineteen twenty-three,” Quinn said. “But we could do better with the tech. If the supervisors could find a way it would benefit them to have a new camera system with an online feed, then it would get done.”

Quinn cocked his Winchester and lifted it to his shoulder, aiming for another metal turkey.

“I miss working with you, Quinn,” Lillie said. “But I ain’t gonna lie. I don’t miss this county and the bullshit one damn bit.”

Quinn closed his left eye and looked down the scope with his right. He fired and knocked the turkey down on the hill. He levered the gun again.

“Driving down,” Lillie said, “I had a few ideas.”