"So what the hell's the matter with him?" Billy snapped at Dirty Steve.
Charley was paler than usual and nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.
"I don't know." Dirty Steve replied. "He's just bellyaching about somethin' or another. Doc was readin' to us from the paper and he got mighty spooked."
"Ah, damn it," Billy muttered. Charley had frequently gone to pieces during our journey; it was probable he was losing his nerve and wanted to run.
"Steven told Charley about the party Sheriff Peppin is planning in our honor," Doc explained, joining us.
Billy frowned as though he were trying to remember something. "Party...?" His face suddenly lit up. "Oh, you must mean the hangin'."
"Callate, chivato," Chavez warned.
"You ever seen a man hanged?" asked Charley.
"I seen Red Smitty hang. His head came clean off." Billy chuckled. "It was a hell of a sight."
I glared at him. He was not helping matters.
"I don't think Charley wants to hear about Red Smitty. I think he'd prefer to hear that we're not going to hang." said Doc.
"Well, if we get caught, we will hang," said Billy. Charley went white as a sheet. "But there's many a slip twixt a cup and a lip." Billy added.
We allowed ourselves a grin. That had been one of John's favorite sayings.
"You gotta let me do somethin' before they catch us," Charley said quietly.
We all got on our horses and followed Charley's lead. We stopped at a mostly Mexican town. Charley looked toward the saloon.
"Damn, Charley, this is your last wish?" said Dirty Steve. "You coulda found a whore in Juarez."
"It's something called a special woman, Dirt Face," said Doc. "You'll understand that one day."
We lined up at the door of the saloon. I'd vowed never to set foot in one again after I left Murphy's, but I didn't like the idea of standing outside and waiting. God only knew how the boys would want to stay; they hadn't seen a woman other than me in a week.
"Square up and shell out for Bowdre," said Billy, dropping a coin in Charley's outstretched hand. "We'll be in the den. Yell if you need a hand." He laughed heartily at his own joke.
The other boys handed Charley some of their money. Last in line was me. I laid a hand on Charley's shoulder. His brown eyes gazed pleadingly into my face. I shook my head. I might have been Charley's pal, but that didn't mean I was willing to finance his first whore. Waste of money is what it was. The money the boys were putting into debauchery could have fed us for at least a week.
As I entered the saloon, a familiar odor stung my nostrils: whiskey, lilac perfume, cigar smoke, and sweaty men. Not a pleasant combination in the least. I sat down in one of the rickety chairs and propped my feet up on the table. A man with long bushy hair was saying to the bartender, "If Billy the Kid's man enough to come around here, he and his lady friend are two hundred dollars flat dead on this bar."
"You can't kill what you can't catch," the barmaid pointed out.
Billy approached the man. "Are you really gonna kill Billy the Kid?" He pointed to the pearl-handle in the man's holster. "You gonna shoot him with that gun? Can I touch it? I'd love to touch the gun that'll kill Billy the Kid."
The man held it out. "You know iron, boy? Have a look. But make sure to give it back. That gun killed Ed Rollins."
"Bullshit," Billy mouthed at us. To the man, he said, "I'm leavin' now and I wanna know what to look for. I'll tell ya if I see him."
"He's a good-lookin' kid. He's got a way with the women and he's a left-hander."
"And the girl?"
"The most drop-dead gorgeous woman you'll ever see. Giant bosoms, thin as a toothpick, and big blue eyes."
I rolled my eyes. The only thing the man had gotten right was that I was skinny and had blue eyes. Well-endowed I wasn't, which was to my advantage when it came to blending in. The man added that The Kid was supposedly fond of whistling sad ballads and Riddle would sing along.
Billy looked in the mirror over the bar and shouted, "I see him!" He pointed at his own reflection.
"I'm a little tired of your wise lip," said the long-haired man. "Get yourself someplace else before I drop your britches in front of all these fine ladies and spank your bottom blue."
Billy started to whistle Dixie. He looked meaningfully toward me to start singing. I kept my mouth firmly shut; I wasn't about to flirt with danger in that manner.
"You are a testy little cuss." the man growled.
Those were the last words he ever spoke. Billy shot him and the man fell to the floor. He asked Doc how many dead Murphy men that made. Doc held up five fingers.
"We'll call it ten," said Billy.
Just then, Charley appeared in the den. "It's John Kinney!" he yelled, panicked.