“You don't seem to understand that I'm doing you a favor,” Haynes said. “You're going to owe me for this one.”

“I suppose I don't,” McBride answered. “I don't see the advantage to this. I don't see why we're doing it on a weekend. I guess I don't see it at all.”

“That's because you still think like a carpenter. And don't get me wrong. I appreciate carpenters. When you need a carpenter, you need a carpenter. But most of the time, you don't need a carpenter.”

“Jesus was a carpenter.”

“Well, I guess that's right, isn't it? He surely was. But where did that get him? Nailed up on some other carpenter's handiwork. It may not have been his best choice of jobs.”

“That would be blasphemy.”

“And I suppose that's right, too. Didn't really think of it that way. Things work out the way they work out. You make a wrong decision, and you get nailed to the wall—or the cross—for it. Good Lord. Sorry about that. I wasn't keeping a good eye on the road when I hit that rock there. My God. Feels like my kidneys swapped sides. Count the bodies in the back, would you?”

“They're all there,” McBride said. “But they're not laughing. Now I'm glad I'm up here. Though I would prefer a new topic of conversation.”

“Start it. Your choice.”

McBride fumbled with his thoughts. He could think of nothing to talk about with Haynes.

“Or we don't have to talk. It's getting cold. Reach under the seat there and hand me what you find.”

McBride found something wrapped in burlap. As he pulled it out, he knew—a bottle. “Evidence, Frank?”

“Of the weather, my friend. Of the weather. Not of a crime.” Haynes pulled the cork with his teeth, then took a drink. He offered the bottle to McBride.

When McBride refused, Haynes took another long pull, tapped on the truck's rear window, then reached the bottle out the side window for Kane Wootan. “Going to be a long night, Sheriff. Long and cold.”

They reached Haby's ranch after dark. Haynes had arranged to have three horses saddled and ready for the trek up Rattlesnake Canyon. “Need four horses,” Haynes told Haby.

“You said three,” Haby replied, watching the men pull firearms and ammunition from the truck.

“Yeah, well. Things change. Need four.”

“I don't know,” Haby said. “Bad ride up there at night.” It was clear to Haby that the lawmen had been drinking. Certainly Haynes and Wootan, maybe McBride and Kempton, too. “I'm not sure you're in any condition to ride up there. You been drinking.”

“We're lawmen, Haby. And we can ride.”

“I don't think so. I can't risk four horses on men who been drinking and men who've got more weapons than anyone could ever need.”

“I judge what we need.”

“No,” Haby said. “No horses.”

“There is a road up there,” McBride said. “We could just drive.”