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language, it was clear which one was giving orders and the other was following those orders.  The boss nodded, apparently granting the subordinate permission to speak.  “Tell me, Padre, you get any strangers lately?”
    Nathan did not like being called “Padre” by a non-Spanish speaking individual.  Use of the word was usually meant to mock the Catholic Church or religion in general.  Nathan knew that lying was a sin but given the circumstance, the safety of his visitor could be in jeopardy.  “Other than you boys, can’t say that I have.”
    “You sure about that?”  The boss glared at Nathan.
    “What’s this about, boys?”
    The subordinate was visibly upset and looked to his boss for guidance.  Bossman held up his hand to calm the other and spoke.  “Show him.”
    A piece of paper was shoved in Nathan’s hand.  The priest had to look twice, but it was clear that the man in the picture was asleep on one of his pews.  Richard was clean-cut in the picture.  His hair was neatly trimmed and had no facial hair.
    “Look real close, Padre, ever seen that man?”  Bossman watched the priest closely to gauge his reaction.
    “Who is he?”
    “Richard Dupree, former Commanding General of the Pacific States of America.”
    It finally dawned on Nathan.  I knew that name sounded familiar.  “What’d he do?  He in trouble?”
    Bossman smiled for the first time and chuckled.  “You could say that.  Man’s a war criminal with a price on his head.”
    Father Elias looked at the two men with a quizzical look.  “War criminal?  There isn’t a functioning government in North America.  Who on earth would be hunting war criminals?”
    “Never said a government was looking for him.  He’s worth fifty pounds of silver dead, a hundred alive.  We’ve been tracking him for months.  Got him cornered in this valley, safe bet he’s in this town somewhere.  You wouldn’t mind if we take a look inside?”
    “I don’t think that’s necessary, I’ve been here all day, just me here.”
    Bossman brought the rifle down from his shoulder.  “Step aside, Padre.”
    “Look here, boys.  This is a house of the Lord; I won’t have guns inside this church!”
    “If I didn’t know better, Padre, I’d think you were lying to us.  But that can’t be, a man of God telling a lie.”
    The priest’s desperation was clear.  “Please, I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.  Let me go inside and talk to him.  I’m sure he’ll surrender peacefully.”
    “Well, Padre, someone’s gonna get hurt!”  The bounty hunter unsheathed a knife from his belt and plunged it deep into Nathan’s chest.  The elderly priest crumpled to the dirt.  “That’s what you get for lying!  You should know better, Padre!  Bible thumpin’ old fuck protecting a piece of shit like Dupree!”
    The junior thug gurgled out a cry of pain.  Bossman turned around and was sprayed in the face by a spurt of blood.  He watched in horror as his partner looked to him, his eyes pleading for help.  His neck was sliced open from side to side.  Blood spewed from his open wound, pulsing out in jets that no doubt matched his heartbeat.  The soon to be dead man hurtled towards him like he had been ejected through the windshield of a wrecked car and the two men crashed to the ground.
    Richard bolted forward and kicked the rifle from Bossman’s hand.  Richard grabbed the hair of the corpse and rolled it to the side so he could deal with his final victim.  Like a rabid animal, Richard pounded his fists into the murderer until the man gave up the struggle.  Richard stood up and retrieved the rifle from a few feet away and returned.  He drove the butt of the rifle down onto the bounty hunter’s right hand, breaking every bone.
    “I should kill you for murdering a defenseless old man, but I need you to deliver a message.  You go back and tell Maxwell Harris I’m not ready to come home!”
     

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Maxwell Harris and