“The way you had it makes sense, all right. Except that wasn't what they wanted. They was looking for a fight. We took six hundred rounds out of their saddlebags. They wanted us dead. Six hundred rounds.”

“You don't say? That casts a light on things, don't it? Six hundred rounds is the start of a small war.”

“And that's what they got,” Tom said.

“Well, that was my point, Tom. You can't go in and try to buffalo an outfit like yours. They was counting on a fight, and they got one. Odd thing, though. I wouldn't want to start a fight with you Powers evenly matched. Hell, to take out four of you, I'd bring a dozen or so with me.”

“They was thinking on surprise. They came up right at dawn. It was light, but just barely light. Shot the Old Man soon as he opened the cabin door. Wasn't even dressed yet. Gunned him right down in his underwear.”

“See. The word is, he fired on them.”

“Never had time. He was shot before he could jack a shell into that Winchester.”

“Damn. Did they announce themselves?”

“Not intentionally. Spooked our horses, which was belled. I heard the horses go by the cabin and woke up. Next thing, I heard a shot and I seen the Old Man fall out the door. I just jumped up and grabbed my gun. John, too. I took the window, John took the door. There was no pleasantries exchanged.”

“Hell, that's not what they're saying, but there's no surprise there, is there? Still, I think you got a pretty good case for self-defense there.”

Tom snorted. “You think so? You think there's even going to be a trial? I don't. I think that unless we can outrun them and get to Mexico, we got two choices—shot in the back, or hanged. Neither is a prize, but given my druthers, I don't really want to be hanged. We got to keep riding.”

“There's a lot of bad feeling, Tom. It ain't a good thing to go shooting the law.”

“It ain't a good thing to shoot three of Thems, either. Thems don't pay a lot of heed to that ‘forgive and forget’ business. That don't seem to be in Thems’ Book. Thems don't forgive, and Thems sure as hell don't ever forget.”

“I wouldn't argue that, Tom. They do hang together. It's their history. I know that, but you can't hold to history forever. They'll swarm like bees if you bother just one.”

“It's the gold, Billy. It's the gold.”

“You really think so? Not the whiskey?”

“Yes I do. We was on to something, Billy.”

“No lie? I hadn't heard that. Normally something like that would get around faster than the squirts after the church picnic. You was really pulling gold out of that hole up there?”