I took them to the sandwich place where I met Dan years before. It had expanded to twice the size it was with more tables and twice as many people.

The beef sandwich I fed to Demon was now featured with different things that altered the flavor of the meat. It wasn't steak but it was tasty, and I ordered there to save a lot of wrangling about where to eat. I had no desire to be thrown out of a nice restaurant because these two rubbed each other the wrong way.

Samuel dug in. He was a western boy who knew meat was in the center of most meals.

I ordered the first item on top of the menu for all of us. The sandwiches all came with grilled potatoes. I was surprised how good it looked when the waiter returned with it.

"For the hungry cowboy," Samuel said when Barnaby's eyebrow arched as he observed the food in front of him. It wasn't what he was used to, but it was hardly what we ate most of the time.

"The only resemblance to me in your comment, I'm a boy. What's this?"

He used his thumb and forefinger to lift the corner of the bread to peak underneath.

"It's lunch. We'll have supper at seven. Don't eat anything you don't want," I said.

The red eyebrow relaxed once Barnaby bit into a meal he didn't recognize. I understood he was on a stagecoach for ten days. His meals had been limited. I had my own problems, and letting this little twirp turn things upside down wasn't going to be one of them.

Barnaby chewed carefully. He kept eating the sandwich until it was gone. He started in on the potatoes, eating them one at a time, and he looked satisfied with himself.

"Quite tasty, Phillip. Thank you. Not what we eat in New York."

"Yes, quite good, Pop. Thanks. That hit the spot."

Now, we were making progress. Maybe the child's play was over for the time being.

Barnaby smirked at Samuel and stuck out his tongue. Samuel grabbed for him.

I stood up as the table tipped to one side, which had me snatching up my sandwich.

They both sat back down. They saw me coming to the end of my rope.

"We have the inquest. I have business to do with Dan, and then we're going to get on our horses and leave St Louis. If you don't want me to tie you to your saddles, and take you home being led behind me, you'll behave. This is my last warning. I don't have time for this."

"Inquest. As in… coroner's inquest," Barnaby inquired with interest.

"Yeah, I shot the last shithead who gave me trouble," Samuel blurted.

"You're a murderer. You expect me to go to John's with a killer. I won't."

"You may not need to. He's not out of the woods," I said. "We get some hanging judge, and this might be the end of the line for Samuel," I said, not believing it, but scaring myself with the new idea.

I intended it to be amusing. Instead, it made me sick at my stomach.

Barnaby sat staring at Samuel who was staring at me as he considered my words. I think it was about the time he realized he might be in real trouble. They let him walk around on the word of some guy I knew, but what was going to happen at a coroner's inquest?

A new mood of seriousness arrived at our table.

"They might keep me here, Pop?"

"It's the law. The law does anything it pleases. I don't know what will happen. I've never been to an inquest. Dan will be there. I don't know what he knows. He knows me. That's what I know. The rest depends on how the law views a shootout with only one shot fired."

"You were in a duel?" Barnaby asked with some new respect for Samuel in his voice.

"I went for my gun when he went for his. He lost," Samuel said. "I thought he'd be faster. I guess he didn't practice with that gunslinger's rig. Good thing I did."

"Gun slingers in the old West. It's how it was done west of the Pecos," Barnaby said like someone selling something no one needs.

It struck me as funny, and I laughed. He was a curious boy with no idea where he was or what was ahead of him. I was responsible for him. I hoped to get him to John alive, but the rate we were going, there would be bruises before it ended. They wouldn't be mine, and I didn't think Barnaby wanted to tangle with Samuel for real.

"Never knew anyone who was in a duel before. They had them in Ireland when I was a boy."

Besides my having indigestion, I was in favor of a fresh start, and we got it when Barnaby told the story of how he met John, while Samuel took it all in.

John had recovered his health by the time we reached St Louis, after leaving New York and Barnaby behind. It was right after leaving St Louis we encountered Samuel and took him in.

For the time being, the war between them was over. Samuel listened as Barnaby told him how he knew John, and the arrangement they made four years before.

"The man I killed, John shot him years ago. He bought me, and he we are."

"He shot him because he was about to kill me for taking his bullwhip away from him."

"The bullwhip he was using on me," Samuel said. "You got that mark on your back for me."

"Oh my god. What kind of place is this?" Barnaby was aghast. "Beat with a whip! Owned? Shot? There are laws, aren't there? I thought laws made that sort of thing illegal."

"That's what we are about to find out," I said.

"Could he go to jail?"

"Only if the law has been broken," I said. "You're in the west. Not so much law out this way."

"I've been with Phillip and John since that day. Phillip is like my paw. I never knew my paw. My maw either. Just knew not to cross Nester. He was the one with the bullwhip. He's the one I shot."

I had nothing to add. Both boys went silent. We went about our business with no more threats or attempted fisticuffs. I kept my eye on them, but they had gone to neutral corners, thinking about what would come next for them, after we left St Louis.

My nerves were able to settle down considerably, but I was still worried about what might happen at the inquest. All those years ago, I ran from a murder I committed. I wasn't even tempted to run this time. Samuel did nothing wrong and there were witnesses. I wish I had killed Nester the day I had a chance and this wouldn't have happened.

I took a second room besides the suite Dan got for us. I had no interest in being a referee between those two. They'd need to work things out among themselves, and I'd pay the damages before we hit the trail. I never calculated adding Barnaby to the mix would be like adding oil to water. They simply didn't mix and I didn't know what to do about it.

Sunday morning, about sunup, I went downstairs to get my first cup of coffee. Some things didn't change much, even when I was on the trail. I woke up wanting coffee. I hesitated in front of the boys' door and all was quiet on that front, but it was early yet.

I would go back for the boys when my stomach got up. I expected Barnaby to sleep most of the day after a week on the stagecoach. Samuel was no stranger to getting up late. He could sleep the day away if there wasn't something waiting for him to do, and there was nothing waiting in St Louis but the law, and you never knew which way the law would go.

I didn't dare consider going home without Samuel. It was unthinkable for a boy who suffered the way he had and would then go to jail for killing the man who tortured him. I remembered buying him the gun, thinking if he was worried about Nester reclaiming him, being armed would give him the idea he couldn't be taken prisoner by the man in the future.

John was right about that Colt. He didn't like it. He didn't like seeing Samuel practicing his quick draw. I saw a boy gaining confidence in himself. John saw trouble.

When I figured it was time to eat, I went to the room and stepped inside. All the curtains were pulled, and no light came in from outside. I lit the lamp and stood in the door of the bedroom with it. Of all the things I imagined I might see, what I saw wasn't among them.

As surprises go, this one came out of the blue of a dawning day. I held the lamp down so I didn't wake them. The last thing I wanted to do now was disturb them.

There, in the same bed, Barnaby had Samuel in his arms. They were both sleeping soundly, thank heavens. The combatants were disarmed, or so it seemed to me. I couldn't quite get from the combatants of the day before ended up using only one of the two beds.

I backed away and eased the door shut with neither of them any the wiser.

I leaned my back against the door and thought of Running Horse.

"I'll be," I said to myself.

*****

The coroner was old and gray with muttonchops and a wooly head of white hair. He glared at Samuel, Barnaby, and then me. The room was large enough to seat the twenty-five people in attendance.

I nodded toward Dan, and the chief of police standing next to him. I had seen some of the other faces, but it wasn't like I knew any of them. Most sat silently by, waiting, as we sat silently by waiting for an entirely different reason.

The inquest was called to order.

I wanted to get this over with and get out of town as quick as I could. This is as close as I came to the law for years. It was a little too close for comfort. There was no doubt that no one was likely to recognize me from a artist's rendering of the Indian, Tall Willow, but I knew stranger things had happened. I didn't like being there with a coroner who looked more like a judge. An angry judge at that.

He sat in the front of the gathering, reading from papers in front of him. He looked up, his eyes moving around the room until he came to where Dan stood beside the police chief.

"Chief, come up and have a seat. I have some questions about the weapon in this case," the coroner, Maximilian J. Flatbush, said.

"Sure, Max. What do you want to know?"

I didn't like it already. He was going right to the law.

"Tell me about the weapon. This is the gun that killed Mr. Nester?" Max said.

"Yes, it is a gunslinger model Colt .45."

"Gunslinger! That would indicate something about the man who wore it?"

"More like boy, Max. I'd say it does. If you're going to draw down on a fellow, no faster rig around. The Colt is deadly in most circumstances. It's a Colt .45 after all."

"One shot lodged in left side of his chest, a few inches from the sternum. DOA. Doubt he ever knew he was shot. If you're going to go, that's a good quick way to get gone."

"That is what I observed, Max. Only one shot fired. Other man didn't clear leather."

"Clear leather? What's clear leather?"

"Gun was still in the holster. He never drew it. His hand was on it when I rolled him over."

"Indicating?" the corner asked.

"He went for his gun. He intended to draw it. He had stepped into the street across from where the boy stepped into the street. There was going to be a gunfight. Didn't last long. Both of them were aiming on at least shooting each other. Only one shot. One dead man."

"Chief, we have a man with this gunfighter's weapon, and he puts one bullet in the victim, and it comes to the coroner to make a decision on the nature of this death?"

"That about describes it, Max."

I was turning pale about this time. I had never been on a railroad before, but I was beginning to know what it felt like.

"Your Honor," I said standing up beside Samuel. "That is a poor description of what took place Friday evening."

"You're calling the police chief a liar. I suggest you sit down and shut up, Sir. I'm not an honor, I'm the city coroner. This is an informal hearing to gather the facts. The next man you face with these facts will be your honor. Don't say anything until I ask you to speak. Sit."

"And charge this boy with the death?" I blurted with my dander getting up. "This boy is no killer. He has a story that I want to give you."

"No? Did Mr. Nester die of heart failure? He died from a bullet being introduced to his heart, and I once again suggest you take your seat. I intend to hear everyone speak. Only after I do will I made a decision on what charges might be appropriate in this case. Sit. He's a little young to be carrying a gunfighters rig on his hip, isn't he, Chief."

"Very young. Never had a gunfight with anyone younger since I been chief."

"How many gunfights have you seen in your time as chief?"

"Three I know of. In 57, before my time, there was Clyde Turner and Fast Eddie Grimes. It's the one everyone talks about. They weren't from here, but they were both bad guys. Fast Eddie never cleared leather either, but Clyde was lightning fast. He was hung as I recall."

"You've been chief since when."

"I came on in 68. After Ray Morris was shot and killed by bank robbers. I'd been deputy since 59. I saw Jonny Wilson out draw Slick Willie Walker. We hung Wilson. That was my first hanging. We wanted to make an example of folks that want to turn our streets into shooting galleries. Most recent in 73, that was Tall Ted Gamble and Gentlemen Jack Kelso. They was both dead when I got there. We didn't hang no one that time because they was dead already. No gunfights for three or four years now, until Friday night when I was called to the scene."

"What do these dangly things do, Chief?" Max asked, holding up the gunslinger's rig.

"You tie these…, here let me show you, Max."

The chief was having difficulty buckling the gunslinger's rig around his more than ample waist. He finally gave up and looked toward Samuel

"It's yours. Come up put this on. Show him how you tie it down."

"I don't like that idea," I said, standing up before I knew I was going to.

"Will you sit down. I will remove you from this hearing. Sit."

"I think he's right, Max. You sound like you made up your mind about this thing, and until you hear everyone, I think you ought to hold off on what you think it looks like. You might have a surprise coming," Dan said to the coroner.

"I'm just gathering facts. The DA will do what he is going to do. I don't prejudge a case. I am gathering information to make an official ruling. Son, come show me how you do it."

Samuel looked at me. I nodded for him to do what he was told.

Barnaby's mouth dropped open, but he remained silent.

Once Samuel leaned to tie the rawhide, as Max watched the operation, the chief stepped around Samuel to speak.

"The rawhide strips he tied to his thigh keep the holster steady. You don't want your holster moving around while you're drawing if you expect to outdraw your opponent," he explained.

"Thank you, Son. You can sit. Take that thing off first if you don't mind. Is that gun loaded?"

"No," the chief said. "We don't leave live rounds in weapons that are evidence."

"Had a case last month, the gun wasn't loaded, but it killed the man cleaning it. Just checking chief."

The chief took the rig from Samuel and returned it to the evidence table.

"Thanks, Leo. I might need you for some more questions as we go along."

"Bobby Jones, I see you're a witness. Come on up and tell us what you saw."

"Well, Max, I was out with my wife and two daughters Friday night, and we were heading for the Fantasia to see that new show in town."

"Oh, did you see the show?"

"Yes, I talked to Leo, and he told me to expect to be called at the hearing. The show was probably better than I think it was, but my mind wasn't on entertainment. Hard to be entertained after seeing a man killed."

"What did you see that kept your mind off the show, Bobby?"

"We were walking toward the Fantasia. First, I heard shouting. It wasn't clear to me what was said, but I saw a young man step in the street. He yelled something. His voice was younger than the first voice. I didn't look too close at first, and then I saw his hand drop to that rig he was wearing."

"What did you see, Bobby? Take your time."

"The dead fellow stepped in the street directly across from the boy. Never saw anything like it. Never saw a gunfight. Hell, we live in St Louis. This ain't the wild west. never heard of such a thing. That's stuff for Deadwood or Abilene, not St Louis, I tell you."

"Calm down, Bobby. Just say what you saw. That's what I want to know."

"He had that six shooter out and that man was dead as quick as that."

"The boy is fast?" the coroner wanted to know.

"Never seen anything like it, Max. Like I said, the other man never had a chance. He killed him," Bobby said, pointing at Samuel.

"That's a matter of conjecture at this time, but thank you, Bobby. Take a seat."

I couldn't believe my ears. The train was picking up speed, and if I left that hearing with Samuel in tow, it would be a miracle. If I was wearing my hat, I'd need to pull a rabbit out of it to save Samuel from the hangman.

With the nails being hammered into a court case that might take months to conduct, I was fearful of what I was hearing. Nothing I heard from the police chief or Bobby, told the story of what actually happened, and more importantly, what led up to it.

Other men were called and each described the events. Several heard what Nester said, but more remembered Samuel's words as he stood over Nester's body. I cringed when they were repeated time after time in that tiny room.

"Own that you mother fucker," another man repeated for the coroner.

"Where did you get that gunfighter's rig, Son. You can stand up to answer me."

"Pop bought it for me."

"Pop? Who is Pop?"

Samuel turned toward me to see if I would own up to it. He felt the train picking up speed too.

"Sit down, Son. Pop, please identify yourself. You wanted to talk, let's hear what you have to say. You can stand up. The DA is here, so anything you say might influence the charges that may or may not be brought in this case. Well, did you buy that rig for this youngster?"

"Phillip Dubois is my name," I said.

I glanced at Samuel as I stood. He had a sorrowful look on his face, once he sat down.

"You bought the boy a gunfighters rig why?"

"It's what he wanted," I said with no defense for what I did. "If there are charges to be brought, I'm the one who bought him that gun."

"Accessory to a killing is no small affair, Mr. Dubois," he read from notes he took. "That's it. He wanted it, so you bought it for him. I can go into chapter and verse about bad parenting, but your face would do as far as I can see if we wanted a model for it. How old is the boy?"

"We're not sure," I said, thinking of how that sounded.

"You're his father and you don't know how old your son is? What I said about bad parenting, I would multiply it if this wasn't such a serious hearing. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm not his father. He calls me Pop. I found the boy in a town a bit west of here. I don't recall its name …"

"Littleton, Pop," Samuel spoke up. "You found me in Littleton."

I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. There was no one to put a hand on mine.

"Littleton," I said. "I fancy myself as taking care of him. In any event, I promised him he would be safe with me, and until now, well, except for the shooting, but that's another story. I've done my best to keep him safe."

"You done just fine, Pop," Samuel said. "They don't know what it's all about."

"I appreciate this walk down memory lane. What's it got to do with the inquest?" Max asked.

"Do you have Nesters gunfighter's rig on the table?" I said, deciding to give it one good shot.

"Chief?"

"Right here, Max," the chief said.

"Am I allowed to show you something?" I asked, not wanting him to scold me again.

"Show me," Max said impatiently.

The chief put Nester's rig next to Samuel's rig. I picked them up, laying them in front of Max.

"There identical. The leather is a little darker on the boy's. What are you showing me?"

"Samuel asked for the rig I bought him, because he had practiced for years on Nester's rig."

"You're telling me these two knew each other?" Max asked me.

"It's what I've been trying to tell you, Max. There is a history between these two. Nester thought he owned Samuel. I think he was Samuel's father," I said, and the entire place went crazy with everyone talking at once.

"He killed his father?" Max asked alarmed.

"He doesn't know that I suspect that's how Nester got him. Anyway, Nester beat him cruelly, and when he was out of the house, this rig was hanging by the back door of the cabin," I said, holding up Nesters gunslinger's rig. "He practiced a quick draw. When I asked him what kind of waist gun he wanted, he picked this one," I said, picking up Samuel's gun. "He already knew how to draw it. It was never loaded or Nester would have been dead long time ago.""

"Nester claimed he owned Samuel when I found him. That was in Littleton, and Nester had a bullwhip out in the street in front of the saloon where I was drinking a beer. He was using it on Samuel. I took the bullwhip away from him, and I took Samuel too."

"Take off your shirt," Barnaby said. "Show them what he did to you."

Samuel looked at Barnaby. He looked at me. He stood up and turned his back to Max, while he unbuttoned his shirt. Once again the small room erupted with gasps, and then, everyone was talking at the same time as Max sat speechless.

I could see Samuel shaking. I could see where his hand fell below the top of the table. Barnaby was holding Samuel's hand. He steadied him as he stood naked above the waist for all to see what a villain Nester truly was.

"The man you killed did that to you?" Max asked with anger dripping from his words.

"Yes … Sir."

"Put your shirt on, Son. I'm sorry we put you through this. It's plain to see this was justifiable homicide. Had I known what this man did to you, well, well, I would have shot the son-of-a-bitch myself."

Max got an ovation when he said it. I had a hunch he would be running for mayor soon.

The room was bedlam, and when I turned to look for Samuel, Barnaby was buttoning his shirt for him, once he saw Samuel's ineffective shaking fingers.

I saw them in one another's arms Sunday. It wasn't something I felt comfortable asking about, but they were two peas in a pod now. I thought it might be the start of a nice friendship. At least I could stop refereeing.

Life was a mystery too complicated for me to know what was going on much of the time. Whatever happened, I couldn't wait to get out of St Louis. Dan promised to do what I came to ask him to do, and he too was pleased with how it turned out.

"I knew you were a good man, Phillip. I didn't know how good you were, until the inquest," Dan told me, after I signed papers he needed me to sign.

The bank was buying John's horse ranch and Paradise Valley for me, and when he asked me if I was ready to take another survey team out in the fall, I told him I had a date with an Indian Chief. He suspected as much, but he wanted to try to keep me working for 1st National if he could.

"If we get ahold of another expansive section of land, since you are out that way, would you consider looking it over for us and giving me your opinion on its value. I value your opinion."

"That I would be happy to do for you, Dan. Thanks for everything," I told him.

"Thank you, Phillip. 1st National owes you a lot for the years you worked for us," he said

I went down and got in the carriage I hired to get our business done.

We took the carriage to collect our things, before going to collect our horses.

We would need to deal with Barnaby's resistance to riding a horse on the way home, but that was a small price to pay. We were all going back alive, and the boys were as pleasant as could be to each other. How this happened would remain a mystery. I was glad it did.

There's nothing like a long peaceful horseback ride.

Now that the two of them aren't involved in a death match, I made Samuel responsible for Barnaby, and I'll save the heart attack they were on their way to giving me for later.

I didn't expect much, but I wanted to be home by year's end if at all possible.

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"Long Riders"

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