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friends.”
    â€œI’m doing my best to be friendly,” McKesson answered. “I’m trying to give you some advice that may save your skin. What could be friendlier than that?”
    â€œYou said something about Wyatt Earp’s friends.”
    â€œFriends,” the sheriff echoed. “Everybody’s somebody’s friend.” His hard smile did not give him the disarming appearance it was evidently intended to provide.
    Patiently, Tree reached for the coffee and tasted it. It was a far cry better than the Chinese cafe’s.
    McKesson said, “You’ll have to forgive me. I like to act as if I’m absentminded and vague—as if I’m not aware of events. It’s often an effective pose—it puts people off their guard, which makes it easier to get around them and cut them off. I should warn you I’m an overeducated old fart but I’m not as slow as I appear.”
    â€œI’ll bear it in mind.”
    â€œYou do that. Now, about Earp and his friends. You arrive here one bright sunny morning all by yourself, evidently expecting to be able to do single-handed what a small army couldn’t do. In the interests of keeping the peace, which is what I’m hired to do, I feel it’s incumbent on me to alert you to the realities of the situation you’re in. You’ve been posted up here to keep surveillance on the Earps until you get word from Denver that Governor Pitkin’s signed the extradition papers. At that point you’re supposed to arrest Wyatt and Warren Earp and take them back to Arizona in custody. Is that right?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œDo you think you can do that? If you do, you’re a fool. How do you expect to pull it off?” McKesson looked as if he were genuinely curious.
    Tree gave him a long scrutiny, trying to see past the mask of wordy pomposity. Clearly McKesson was, as he said he was, a lot faster than he appeared: if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have this job. A mining boom camp was no place for an addle-headed old law man.
    Tree decided it might be profitable to play McKesson’s own game. And so he said, “Let’s put it this way. If I don’t have a plan, I’d be stupid to admit I was that much of a fool. And if I do have one, I’d be stupid to tell you what it is.” And he smiled.
    The white eyebrow went up again. “Smart,” McKesson commented. “Smarter than I took you for—and coming from me that’s both a compliment and a confession. I rarely fail to size a man up correctly at first crack. You took me by surprise twice. Either I’m slipping or you’re a damned clever young man.”
    â€œUh-hunh.” Tree was beginning to enjoy the game; he would have enjoyed it more if it hadn’t been for the looming shadow of Wyatt Earp, which lay dark in the back of his mind and colored every thought and deed.
    McKesson said, “I do like you. You size up like a man. I think you deserve a free lesson in politics—it may save your life.”
    â€œI thought we were talking about friends.”
    â€œWe are. To a man like Wyatt Earp, friends and politics mean the same thing.”
    â€œAll right. You’re in a mood to lecture—I’ll listen.”
    â€œSmart,” McKesson remarked again, and then he chuckled. “If you’d known me longer you’d know I’m always in a mood to lecture. Lately I haven’t had many good audiences, though, unless you count the drunks I gather into the fold every night. All right, young fellow, settle back and enjoy your coffee and try to appreciate my wisdom as much as it deserves. I’ll tell you about Gunnison and I’ll tell you about Wyatt Earp, and his politics, and his friends.”
    McKesson was smiling—but his eyes were at odds with his lips. He spoke with a flat down-East accent, Tree noticed.
    McKesson said, “We’ve got a tough Httle town often thousand tough