Chapter 44

• It was close to sunset when Ricky rode into the gathering at the old Salton place_ a grim assembly of cowpunchers and outlaws, their eyes shadowed by suspicion and hardened by countless battles with fate. The crowd had been swelling for hours, and as Ricky approached, men parted like water before him. Whispers followed in his wake; he was a marked man now_ a friend of Trillin’ Jack Mercer, and that connection had become both his shield and his curse. Faces that once beamed with familiar warmth now averted their gazes, though furtive glances betrayed unspoken fears. Ricky allowed himself a grim smile, as though reading the silent confessions of each wary soul. Today, more than ever, he was resolved to stand_ or fall_ by Jack’s side.
• No lawman dared appear, for if one had, it would have been his sworn duty to seize the outlaws the moment they crossed the threshold. The plan, unsaid yet understood by all, was to let fate and fire settle old scores; to allow these bitter enemies to fight out their quarrel in a final, blood-soaked reckoning.
• As the hours waned, small clusters of men gathered in whispered debate, recounting in hushed voices the myriad crimes attributed to Trillin’ Jack Mercer. The legends they recited were as numerous as the stars emerging in the dusk, and though many embraced these tales, they were clearly in the minority. Still, every man fidgeted with the butt of his six-gun, nerves fraying beneath the weight of impending doom.