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do,” said Wes. “I intend to get a doctor for Ty, and I need to find out what happened to Claypool so I can come back and tell Bugs here.” He gave Trent a hard stare. “Right, Bugs?”
    Bugs relented, not knowing what to make of the look in Wes Traybo’s eyes.
    â€œAw, come on, Wes, I didn’t mean nothing,” he said. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”
    â€œIt’s not too late to start,” Rubens cut in. He turned back to Wes and said, “You don’t need to go back, Wes. This is a hard game of ours. Claypool knows how it’s played. He wouldn’t ask you to come back for him.”
    â€œHe stayed back to cover for Ty and me,” said Wes. “That’s what he does.” He gave Rubens a firm look. “Anything more you want to say on the matter?”
    â€œDamn it,” Rubens said. “Go on, then. We’ll take care of Ty until you get back.”
    â€œWell, thank you, sir,” Wes said, giving Rubens a look. He turned to his horse and took the reins from Bugs’ hand. The young outlaw stepped in close.
    â€œWes, I didn’t mean nothing. I swear I didn’t,” he said. “I’ve got no damn sense sometimes.”
    â€œI didn’t think you meant it, Bugs,” said Wes. “If I did, one of us would be dead right now.”
    â€œI’m going with you,” Bugs said suddenly, wanting to make up for what he’d said. “There could be a bunch of guns waiting for you there.”
    â€œDo like I said, Bugs,” Wes said. “Stay here with Rubens and watch my brother.”
    Trent and Rubens stood staring as Wes climbed atop his horse and gathered his reins.
    â€œStay alive for me, brother Ty,” he said. He spun his horse sharply and booted it back toward Maley.
    Turning to Rubens, Bugs saw the condemning look on the older gunman’s face.
    â€œWhat?” he said, giving a shrug. “You heard me tell him I don’t have any sense sometimes.”
    â€œYeah, I heard you,” said Rubens. He spat and ran a hand across his lips. “I expect we all know you weren’t lying to him.”
    Bugs’ expression turned sour.
    â€œWhat do you mean by that?” he said. He opened and closed his gun hand intently.
    â€œEvery damn thing you think I mean,” said Rubens. He turned away from the young gunman with disregard.
    Bugs pointed at him, frustrated at not being taken seriously.
    â€œListen, Rubens, I only put up with your grousing ways because I like you,” he said.
    â€œLucky me,” Rubens said without looking back at him.
    â€œYou don’t want to push me too far,” Bugs warned.
    â€œPush this,” Rubens said, walking away toward Ty Traybo, making a profane gesture over his shoulder toward Bugs Trent.
    Bugs fumed but kept his mouth shut. He clenched his teeth and cursed under his breath.
    Ty Traybo, even in his pained and weakened condition, managed to chuff and shake his lowered head.
    â€œHe got you there, Bugs,” he murmured. “That’s all you can say about it.”
    Bugs lightened up and let out a short laugh himself.
    â€œDamn it,” he said to Ty. “A smart man don’t stand a chance around this bunch.” He looked off toward Maley. “I hope Wes gets back here real quick. Something about this place gives me the willies.”
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    In Maley, while the dust still loomed and settled slowly on the streets, buildings and locals, Carter Claypool sat slumped in a straight-backed chair in the town’s sheriff office. His arms hung limp at his sides. Two crude wads of cloth had been stuffed into his shirt, staying the flow of blood from his left shoulder. The wound was clean, not deep, the bullet having skewered through his shoulder muscle and out without hitting bone. His face was reddened and puffed, turning the color of fruit gone bad from the beating he’d