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the sheriff in Mesa Grande. Now you don’t trust me enough to tell me about why you’ve got a mad-on at your pa?”
    â€œA
mad-on. . . .”
Fox chuckled and turned to face Ozzie. “Naw, I don’t have a mad-on at him.” He knew Ozzie was lying about killing the sheriff, but he saw his point. Oz had just told him about killing a lawman. It was only fair that he should reciprocate in kind. “Sometimes it’s hard as hell living up to what he expects of me.” He raised the glass, drank half of it and held the glass close to his lips.
    Beside him, Ozzie drank and nodded and listened.
    â€œAll my life I had to work twice as hard, do my chores and my brother Lucas’ too . . . him being simpleminded,” Fox said. “I had to look out for him, keep him from straying away.” He paused, recalling how he, his brother and Ozzie had fought the Apache, and how his brother had died in the battle. “No matter how well I looked out for him, he’s still dead anyway.”
    â€œThat wasn’t your fault, Fox,” said Ozzie. “I was there. The heathen Apache—Quetos and his WolfHearts killed poor Lucas. I figure that’s good enough reason for you to want to kill all them sons a’ bitches, far as I’m concerned.”
    â€œYeah, I reckon so,” Fox said, staring down at the whiskey near his lips, brooding. “I’ll tell you the truth. I’m not glad my brother’s dead, but I am glad he’s not around anymore.” He tossed back the rest of the whiskey in his shot glass and set the glass down hard atop the bar. “There, I said it,” he concluded.
    â€œYou sure enough did,” Ozzie said, giving Fox a drunken grin, knowing his friend had just settled something that had been weighing heavily on his mind. “I say we ought to celebrate . . . get us a couple of gals of our own!” He gestured toward the women playing up to the scalpers along the bar. One scalper had sat a woman atop the bar and buried his bearded face between her breasts.
    â€œCelebrate what?” Fox said. “My brother being killed before my eyes?”
    Ozzie stopped grinning.
    â€œNo, I didn’t mean it like that,” Ozzie said. “I mean celebrate you being your own man now—wearing your own skins and bones.” He gestured at Fox’s shirt with its hair-and-bone breastwork. “With your pa heading this expedition, I can see you being in charge someday yourself.”
    â€œI don’t want to be in charge of scalping Apache,” said Fox. “I don’t want nothing I have to take over from my pa.”
    â€œI would if I was you,” Ozzie said. “Not everybody gets a business like this handed to them.”
    â€œMy pa will run balls-out wild while there’s a contract with the Mexes,” said Fox. “But scalp hunting like this ain’t going to last long. What do we hunt for bounty when it’s over?”
    Ozzie thought about it. “I was on my way to being an assassin until that Ranger killed Uncle Erskine. You and me could do that, you know, partner up?”
    â€œAssassins, naw,” Fox said. “Maybe when called upon I’d do it. But the big money is robbing. It always has been.”
    â€œYou mean partner up and rob places, stagecoaches, stores and the like?” Ozzie asked.
    Fox thought about it.
    â€œYeah, Oz, I’d partner with you, outlawing,” he said. “We could rob us a couple of places, see how it goes.” He gave Ozzie a level gaze.
    â€œWhoo-ee!” said Ozzie. Getting excited. “Hell yes, let’s do it! When do you want to start?”
    â€œSoon,” said Fox, looking away, staring at the girl with the bearded scalper’s face between her breasts. “First, let’s get us some gals, like you said. This is my day for doing things I never got to do, breaking loose on my own, so to speak.”