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cave. It wasn’t that deep, just enough to fit a horse for the night. The animal swung his head around and glanced at him, but didn’t make a sound, so Degan backed out of the hole and made his way back up the path to the shack.
    He walked around the structure and found the entrance. This area had been cleared of trees and brush. He saw the remnants of a campfire, a pan left on a griddle, the fire extinguished for the night. A saddle was on the ground next to it. He wasn’t surprised. The shack would block that fire from the view of anyone downhill. The miner had definitely wanted to keep his place hidden.
    Degan inched his way to the entrance. If there had ever been a door, it was gone now. The shack was barely as tall as he was. The opening wasn’t. He had to duck again to see inside.
    Light came from a lantern on the floor, but it was set so low it might as well not have been lit. Still, it provided enough illumination for him to see Dawson lying on the floor asleep. So Luella had tried to steer Degan wrong. Young love, in this case, he thought, was damned annoying.
    Nearly an hour had passed since Degan had found the place. He’d left his horse at the bottom of the hill so any sound it made wouldn’t be heard. And he’d moved slowly, careful to avoid stepping on twigs, which is what had taken so long. There were a lot of twigs. But the moment he stepped inside the shack, wood creaked. Unavoidable when the floor was made of crate scraps.
    Dawson heard it, but he’d been sleeping on his belly, so even though he reached for his gun, he still had to turn to fire it. Before that happened, Degan said, “Your back makes an easy target, not that I ever miss what I shoot at. And don’t try what you’re thinking of trying. It only takes a second to die, kid.”
    â€œCan I at least turn over?”
    â€œNot with that gun in your hand. Drop it, carefully, and lock your fingers behind your head.”
    The boy might have done as told, but not quickly enough. He was obviously still considering options that didn’t include jail. So Degan moved forward and stepped on Dawson’s right wrist until the gun slipped from the boy’s fingers and a string of expletives from his mouth.
    â€œLucky for you I never lose my temper,” Degan said casually as he picked up the long-barreled Colt and tucked it in his belt before stepping back. “But I can get annoyed when I’m tired and I’m damn tired tonight, so you might not want to test my patience again—I still don’t see those fingers behind your head.”
    Max had been shaking his right hand to make sure his wrist wasn’t broken, but he quickly complied now and locked both hands behind his neck. The kid was probably still swearing, but it was just a mumble to Degan’s ears and he didn’t really care. He dropped the coil of thin rope that was looped over his shoulder and gave the rest of the room a cursory glance. There was nothing in it other than the lantern, two saddlebags with a rifle propped up against the wall between them, and the tan hat hanging from a peg on the wall. The kid was fully dressed, minus his coat, which he’d rolled up and had been using as a pillow.
    â€œYou sleep on a pile of leaves? Really?” Degan said with some amusement.
    â€œWas I supposed to make this rickety crate feel like home? Wasn’t planning on staying more’n a few days.”
    â€œYet you did stay longer. Why didn’t you just get a room in town so you could enjoy a few comforts? Helena is a big enough town to hide in.”
    â€œNot with my face showing up on so many porch posts along the boardwalks.”
    â€œSo it is you, Max Dawson? Thanks for clearing that up so quickly.”
    â€œWell, damn. You weren’t sure?”
    â€œSure enough, but there isn’t much light in here, is there?”
    Degan corrected that, hunkering down to see if he could get any more light out