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more.”
    “You’re planning on growing,” Virgil said.
    “I plan on owning this town,” Callico said. “Every goddamned citizen will be giving me money regular.”
    “Got it all planned out?” Virgil said.
    “I’m feelin’ my way along. But it can be done.”
    “’Less we get in your way.”
    “You’re right,” Callico said. “Be harder for me if I have to kill you. But if it gets even harder when I don’t kill you . . .”
    Callico spread his hands, and raised his eyebrows, and shrugged.
    “Don’t need an answer right now, Virgil,” Callico said. “Both you boys think on it.”
    “Be glad to,” Virgil said.
    “Be needing an answer by Sunday,” Callico said.
    “Surely,” Virgil said.
    We all sat for a moment. Then Callico stood, nodded to us, and headed back down Main Street. His men followed. Virgil and I sat quiet for a time, and then Virgil spoke.
    “You know,” Virgil said. “Last time we was here we was lawmen. Now we appear to be outlaws.”
    “I guess,” I said.
    “Don’t seem much different,” Virgil said.
    “Maybe it ain’t,” I said.
    “Oughta be,” Virgil said.
    I shrugged.
    “We gonna take his offer?” I said.
    “No.”
    “We leaving town?”
    “No.”
    “We gonna face it out with him?”
    “Be my plan,” Virgil said.
    I nodded.
    “Why don’t we take his offer?”
    “Don’t like the man,” Virgil said.
    “Least you got a nice, strong reason,” I said.
    “Don’t like him,” Virgil said.

16
    P ONY HAD BREAKFAST with us at Café Paris on Friday. The Chinaman who ran the café had some chickens, and they had been laying recently. So, with our beans and salt pork and biscuits, we each had an egg.
    “Sick of cooking for me and Kha-to-nay,” Pony said.
    “How is life out on the prairie,” I said.
    Pony shrugged.
    “Quiet,” he said. “But Kha-to-nay wants to go back to war with white-eyes.”
    “Ain’t gonna win that,” I said.
    “I know,” Pony said. “Try to keep him alive long as I can. Balloon go up here on Sunday?”
    Virgil shook his head.
    “No?” I said.
    Virgil shook his head again.
    “He backed off the shooting,” Virgil said. “Soon’s we brought it up.”
    “Scared?” Pony said.
    Virgil shook his head.
    “Ambitious,” he said.
    “Afraid it would spoil his plan to be governor?” I said.
    “Yep.”
    “He did shift the tone of the conversation,” I said.
    “He tell you go,” Pony said. “He tell you, you not go he kill you.”
    “True,” Virgil said. “But he won’t.”
    “Think I come in town, anyway,” Pony said. “Stay with you Sunday.”
    “ ’Preciate it,” Virgil said. “But I ain’t wrong ’bout this.”
    “Wants to be known as the man who cleaned up Appaloosa,” I said.
    “Yep,” Virgil said. “And he won’t get that reputation by shooting us.”
    “Who actually did clean up Appaloosa,” I said.
    “Maybe for a while,” Virgil said. “But Callico’s a politician. Don’t care nothing about actually.”
    “He lie?” Pony said.
    “How he knows he’s a politician,” Virgil said.

17
    P ONY WALKED with us up from Café Paris and sat with us in our spot in front of the Boston House. Tilda brought us out some coffee.
    “This what you do every day?” Pony said.
    “When we ain’t keeping order in our saloons,” I said.
    “How much you do that?” Pony said.
    “Not so much,” Virgil said.
    “Mostly we do it from here. Anybody needs us, they send somebody.”
    “Don’t seem too dangerous here,” Pony said.
    “Don’t,” Virgil said.
    “Seem boring,” Pony said.
    “Is,” Virgil said. “Mostly.”
    “Good for ladies,” Pony said.
    “Yep.”
    “How is Chiquita?” Pony said.
    “Doin’ fine,” Virgil said. He was watching four horse-men come up the street. All four wore dusters and black Stetsons.
    “Hello,” I said.
    Virgil nodded. Pony said nothing.
    As the riders came abreast of us, they wheeled the horses and stopped in front of us.
    “Looking for the police office in