“Commanding officer a that militia commissioned us to kill any stragglers we come across.”
“So how come he ain’t dead?” Hoover asked from the end of the bar.
Auslander didn’t answer the question directly. “You got women close by?”
From the look on the man’s face, Hoover caught on immediately. “No closer’n White Hair’s camp, and them won’t do nobody no good.”
Hap turned to Tate. “You got objections?”
“Not ‘less you gonna be hoggish,” the trader said, proving himself a false friend to the dead White Hair.
Auslander laughed, a sound not pleasant to the ear. “Plenty for everbody. Right now, I wanna wet down the idea.”
“Lock him in the outbuilding.” Tate suggested.
Seeking escape, I headed for the necessary, alert for the rattlesnakes Tate had cautioned about. I encountered no cold-bloo
