R.J. Bruckner said, “Look. They give me a warrant signed by Judge Hough for the arrest of Dana Moon. I served it over all kinds of commotion and people trying to argue with me and those newspaper men getting in the way. It took me and four deputies to clear them out and put Moon in detention. Now you got a complaint, go see the judge or the county attorney, it's out of my hands.”

“Are you gonna drink that whole bottle yourself?” Sundeen asked.

He reached behind him to close the door, giving them some privacy in the deputy's little office with its coal-oil lamp hanging above the desk.

“I was having a touch before supper,” Bruckner said, getting another glass out of his desk and placing it before Sundeen. “Not that it's any of your business.”

“I see they all went home,” Sundeen said, “the judge, the prosecutor and John Slaughter, leaving you with a mess, haven't they?”

“I'm doing my job,” Bruckner said, pouring a short drink for Sundeen and setting the bottle within easy reach. “I don't see there's any mess here.”

Sundeen leaned close as if to pick up the glass and swept the desk clean with his hand and arm, sending bottle, glasses and papers flying against the side wall. It brought the deputy's head up with a jerk, eyes staring open at the bearded, bulletmarked face, the man leaning over the desk on his hands, staring back at him.

“Look again,” Sundeen said, “Listen when I'm talking to you and keep your hands in sight, else I'll draw iron and lay it across your head.”

It was the beginning of a long night for R.J. Bruckner. First this one coming in and saying he wanted Moon released from jail. What? How was he supposed to do that? You think he just set a person free when somebody asked? Sundeen said he was not asking, he was telling him. He wanted Moon, but he was not going to stick a gun through the bars to get him. He wanted Moon out on the street. Bruckner would send him out and he would take care of it from there.

Ah, now that didn't sound too bad.

Except that Bruckner was looking forward to having Moon stay with him awhile. He owed Moon, the son of a bitch, at least a few lumps with a pick handle but had not gotten around to it yet.

Bruckner sat back thinking about it, saying, “Yeah, like he was shot down while trying to escape.”

“Jesus, it does't take you long, does it?” Sundeen said.

Bruckner did not get that remark. He was thinking that he liked the idea of Moon being shot down even better than taking a pick handle to him…especially if it turned out he was the one pulled the trigger and not this company dude with the silver buckles.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “let me think on it awhile.”

Then was pulled up short again as Sundeen said, “You bag of shit, the thinking's been done. He walks out of here tonight at…let's say eleven o'clock, after you show him a release form.”

“A release form? I don't have anything like that.”

“Jesus, you show him something. A wire from the county clerk saying the charge's been dropped. Eleven o'clock, open the door for him to walk out and duck,” Sundeen said. “You do anything else, like try and back-shoot him, you'll see fireworks go off in your face.”

First Sundeen-

Then Bren Early walking into the office, looking at the mess on the floor where the bottle had knocked over the spittoon and the papers lying there were stained with tobacco juice and whiskey.

“Come to see your old partner?”

“In a minute,” Early said, looking down at Bruckner from where Sundeen had stood a little while before. “You owe me a favor.”

“For what?”

“Not killing you three years ago. That would be reason enough to do what I ask, but I'm gonna give you another one.” Early brought paper scrip from his inside coat pocket and dropped it on the desk. “Being practical-why was he arrested in the first place?” Early watched Bruckner pick up the money and begin to count it. “Because he admitted in court trying to shoot somebody. But how're they gonna convict him if he stands mute at his trial? Moon being an agent of the federal government and all-”

“Five hundred,” Bruckner said, looking up.

“Since he'd get off anyway-all you'd be doing is cutting a corner, wouldn't you?”

Bruckner folded the money into his shirt pocket and sat back, getting comfortable, big nose glistening in the coal-oil light. “I would need to do a little preparing, make it look real, you understand.”

“I was thinking, in a few days when you take him to the county seat,” Early said. “Out on the road someplace-”

“No, it's got to be tonight,” Bruckner said.

“Why is that?”

“Because I'm on duty tonight and if I'm gonna do this I want to get it done, over with.” Bruckner paused. He had to think, picture it, without taking too much time. If Sundeen and Early were both waiting outside…If they saw each other as Moon came out…If they went for each other, there'd be guns going off, wouldn't there, and he could maybe have a clear shot at Moon going out and then, what if he put the gun on Early, if Early was still standing up?…Shoot the accomplice…Jesus Christ, shoot Sundeen if he had to, if he saw the chance…Shoot all three of them during the confusion…Shoot those big names in the newspapers, God Almighty, gun them down, all three of them shot dead by Deputy Sheriff R.J. Bruckner…Oh yes, that's Bruckner, he's the one that gunned down Moon, Bren Early and Phil Sundeen, the Yuma terror, during a daring jailbreak…Wiped them out, all three of them. Jesus.

“What're you nervous about?” Early asked him.

Bruckner pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead and down over his nose and mouth. “Goddamn dinky office is like a hotbox. I'm gonna get out of here pretty soon, run for the job in Tomb-stone next year. Shit, if I can't beat Fly, with my experience in law enforcement-”

“Let's get this done first,” Early said.

Bruckner nodded, mind made up. “Tonight, eleven o'clock… No, five minutes before eleven. You come, leave a horse for him in front. Step inside and give me a nod. I'll go back and get your partner, lock myself up in his cell.”

“Why not the back door?” Early said. “In the alley.”

“That door don't open. It's bolted shut.”

“All right, let me talk to him now.”

“Tell him five minutes before eleven,” Bruckner said.

This time it was Moon in the cell and Early looking through the bars.

He said, “I talked to John Slaughter before they moved their show out of here. John says they didn't have a choice, you shot three men in that yard. They'll hold your trial at the county seat. Now, considering everything, the company'll turn on the pressure to get a conviction. See if they can send you to Yuma.”

“It's a lot of country from here to there,” Moon said. “Kate visits tomorrow, I'll talk to her about it. You don't have to get involved in this.”

“I already am,” Early said. “Sundeen was here about a half-hour ago. The way I see it, he doesn't want you in here either. He's been keeping quiet, but that business in Sonora's still eating him.”

“I know that,” Moon said.

“I talked to Bruckner and he was already there waiting. Had the time set and everything.”

“What'd you pay him?”

“Not much. He owes me a favor. But wouldn't it make his heart glad to shoot you going out the door and me standing there? Or Sundeen. He paid a visit-something's already been arranged here, I can feel it.”

“I can smell it,” Moon said. “But this isn't any of your business. If he's gonna open the door, I'll take my own chances.”

“What was it you said the time I was in there and you were out here?” Early paused before reciting the words from three years ago. “‘You might see it coming, but I doubt it.’ Well, you'll probably hear me three blocks away.”