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teeth, or he’s going away empty-handed.
    â€œYou understand that, dog?”
    Judd kneeled on the ground, his face hard as granite and pale as a winter moon. Tears ran down his cheeks and dripped on his shirt, but he felt nothing, nothing at all.
    â€œThat’s enough fun,” one of the men whispered. “Just give him the meat, Jasper, and we’ll get back to work.”
    But the man wilted under the heat of Jasper’s glare, and he stepped back.
    â€œNow, dog,” Jasper said, menace poking from his voice like spines from a yucca. “Let’s see if you can learn this new trick.
    â€œLet’s see if you can catch this liver in your teeth. Had a dog once that could do that. Throw him a piece of meat, and he’d snap it out of the air like a rattler after a mouse.”
    â€œYou ready, dog? I’m going to throw it now.”
    â€œNo, you’re not.”
    The little knot of men jerked around.
    â€œWhere in hell did you come from?” one asked. Then he noticed Mordecai’s collar and whispered, “Sorry, preacher, for the language.”
    â€œThe language is the same if I’m here or not.”
    The men started to break up, but they were pulled back by the harshness of Jasper’s voice. “You being a preacher don’t mean a damn thing to me,” he said.
    Jasper had dropped the liver back into the tub and picked up his knife, shining dull and bloodstained. He held the knife low, edge up and pointed at Mordecai’s heart. “Suppose you get the hell out of here, and let us get on with our business.”
    â€œYou’ve got half your business taken care of,” the preacher replied, an edge creeping into his voice. “You took the boy’s quarter, and I figure that’s worth two livers and a beef heart. Isn’t that the going rate?”
    Mordecai glanced at the rest of the men. They nodded, too intent on the drama unfolding before them to speak.
    â€œSeems to me that the ‘entertainment’ you had at the boy’s expense ought to be worth something, too—say a front quarter.”
    Jasper turned livid. “You’re about to get more entertainment than you bargained for,” he said, snarling. “Preacher, I’m going to gut you just like this steer here, and hang you up for the whole town to see, collar and all.”
    Jasper lunged, his knife coming in low and fast and ugly.
    The preacher sidestepped, and Judd slipped on the pile of entrails, going down to one knee. When he rose, the preacher was standing behind him, unbuckling his belt.
    Jasper grinned malevolently. “Well, look at this, boys. The preacher’s afraid he’s going to pee his pants.”
    The preacher waited. Jasper came at him like a bear stalking a wounded deer, and the preacher’s arm moved in a blur.
    Crack!
    Jasper’s eyes widened. Two cuts crossed his cheek like wagon tracks. Blood seeped down his face.
    Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
    The preacher was twirling the belt about his head now, and at each revolution it cut into Jasper’s face, neck, arms. Jasper stumbled backward, fleeing the belt as a child flees a nest of aroused yellowjackets.
    Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
    The knife clattered to the ground, and Jasper followed it, rolling into a ball, arms doubled over his face. His shirt was shredded, blood oozed from him, and he was sobbing. “Please, no more. No more. Please. Please.”
    The preacher turned to the other men, and they stepped back.
    â€œTurn the other cheek on a man with a knife,” the preacher said. “Likely as not, you won’t have it.”
    One of the men twittered, and nervous laughter pattered through the butchers.
    â€œI’m going to be in the Silver Dollar Saloon around nine o’clock Sunday morning,” the preacher said. “I’d like to buy all of you a drink.”
    â€œI’ll be there,” said the man who had tried to stop