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from being a werewolf was the only reason his condition was not more serious.
    “I surrender,” the man said, a subtle accent to his words.
    Jed raised the gun, “Do you think I care?”
    The eyes widened immediately. “Don’t kill me! I...I can help you.” He begged.
    “Help me with what?”
    The man opened his eyes tentatively. “I’m not the only werewolf. I can tell you the others. Just don’t kill me.” He pleaded.
    “Start talking,” the gunslinger prompted.
    “Not here. You will kill me as soon as I finish. I’ll speak if the sheriff is listening.”
    Jed frowned. The man was smart. Jed would have killed him the moment he spilled his beans. It left a thorny problem. Keeping an eye on one werewolf by himself was going to be hard. Not enough daylight remained to escort him to Hickory by dusk.
    “One question for the road then,” Jed said. “What is your name?”
    “John.” There was a slight hesitation. “Gibbon.”
    The gunslinger noticed it. “Lie to me again and I will drag you behind my horse all the way to town. 
    “Adolf,” the man said proudly. This time no last name was offered.
    “I changed my mind. I have another question, Adolf. Down below there is a cave filled with bones.”
    “So,” Adolf snorted.
    “I don’t see why you wouldn’t hide there. Makes sense with this hot sun to get under some shade.”
    “I didn’t see it.” Adolf argued.
    Jed remained silent. While hidden it was not invisible, especially from up here. His hunch on it being a feeding ground for werewolves could be right. During a full moon it would be good to have a place far from town and far from discovery. Not that it meant more werewolves existed.
    On the other side of the ridge was a slope less steep. They used it to descend. Circumventing the hill back to his horse took a half hour at Adolf’s slow plodding pace.
    “Don’t move,” Jed warned. He took several steps forward and pistol whipped his prisoner. Yelping the man collapsed to the ground. “Don’t move,” Jed threatened again.
    Going to his saddlebags, he withdrew a long coil of rope. Sometimes gunslingers were asked to bring a monster to town so it could be hanged and then burned. Usually there was help on jobs like that. Keeping a foot on the captive Jed roped him up like his father had taught.  The rope went around one ankle, then the opposite hand, and likewise for the remaining appendages. Finally the rope was wrapped around the throat and tied to the hands behind his back. Jed helped the man stand up. The knot was designed so that if he moved his hands too far or his feet took a long step, it would tighten the noose around his throat.
    Shuffling forward the moaning captive began moving. They made even less time with the awkward waddling of Adolf. They ended the day’s journey early. Jed wanted to set up a fire and eat before dusk. The dried brush made excellent firewood and in short order Jed had one burning.
                  The sun fell as Jed sat, his back to the fire and the Smith and Wesson in his lap. A dozen yards away Adolf was lying comfortably as he could, tied as he was. Jed watched him and the coming night. His horse nibbled on the bush it was tied at, trying to find something worth eating. 
    Then Adolf spoke up. “Did you kill Hemming?”
    “I reckon I did. A friend was he?” Jed had no compassion.
    “He was a brother.” Adolf said fiercely.
    “Ah. Got bit by the same dog, eh?”
    “We were chosen. It was an honor.”
    Jed doubted Adolf thought that at the time. “Chosen because of what?”
    Adolf remained silent.
    Jed sought to rile his prisoner. “I see, chosen because it was convenient. You were probably a bastard before. Makes it easier to be one after a bite. Less compunctions to killing innocents.” 
    “We were chosen because we retained the old ways. Because when we die we will forever hunt in the fields of Valhalla.” Adolf nearly shouted back.
    Jed yawned. “Dogs don’t have