“No. The Old Man shouldn't have to die alone, though.”

“We all die alone. That's how it works,” Sisson said. Both Tom and John looked at him as though his horse had begun to speak to them.

“That's right,” Tom said. “We got one chance, and that's with me, and it's down to Mexico. That's our chance. Otherwise, we're dead, too. We keep riding. The Old Man is dead by now. That part of the story has been told.”

The fight had lasted only seconds, and now they were getting the hell out. The two brothers and Tom Sisson had headed west out of Kielberg Canyon and into Redfield Canyon down toward the San Pedro River Valley. They kept the mountains between them and any who would be following them.

“I don't think Sisson killed anyone. I think he had his big ass wedged under the bed,” Tom said, after Sisson moved ahead.

“Maybe he did, maybe he didn't,” John said.

“Those would be the choices,” Tom said. “‘Didn't’ being the correct one.”

“How many did you kill?”

“I don't know, one, I guess.”

“I got one. That's two. Who got the third?”

“I don't know.”

“Sisson. It's got to be Sisson. He's the only other one there.”

“The Old Man could have got one.”

“I don't think he ever got off a shot. They shot him as soon as he opened the door. So it's got to be Sisson who got the third one.”

“And then he crawled under the bed, did he?”

“I don't know,” John said.

“That's right, you don't. Don't burn a lot of food thinking. It ain't your strong point.”

They rode on in silence, on the lawmen's horses, following Sisson. It was still snowing, but less now. It had begun to snow just after the fight was over, and it had kept up. It was a light snow that covered the scrub brush more than the ground and that glistened in the horses’ manes. They were coming down in elevation quickly now, and soon the snow would be gone. That was good. Tracking them would get harder. Tracking them would be hard anyway. They knew the area well.

“Do you think the Old Man is dead?” John asked.

“Yeah. I think he's dead. He was bad shot.”

“That was something. That fight just starting up like that. We can tell them that we didn't start the fight. Thems just up and started shooting. Shot the Old Man still in his underwear. Thems had no call. No call.”

“You want to explain that to a jury? A jury in Safford? A jury of Mormons, most of Thems the dead's relations? You want to explain that to Thems? Even if Thems don't hang you before you even get your trap open?”

“I don't want to explain nothing.”

“Well, there you go, then,” Tom concluded.

“I wouldn't mind if you explained some things, though.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like what was that all about?”