The morning sun found all of them well, except for Billy. The boy was even more pale than the day before. His big blue eyes were too bright, and a harsh coughing shook his fragile figure now and again.

Delilah acted like the personification of concern, hovering over him like a mother hen. "He's got a tender constitution. That's why we're moving south. He's going to need a doctor checking on him." She quickly glanced over to Jack. The look on his face was as apprehensive as hers.

"Then we should get moving," Heyes said. "It'll take about two days with the wagon to Hancock."

"Two days?" Delilah's eyes grew wide. "Isn't there any place closer?"

"No, ma'am, I'm sorry."

"Can you give us directions?" Jack asked.

"We can show you the way," Heyes offered. "It's on our route anyway. If you'll have our company that is."

"We'd be happy to have you with us, wouldn't we, Jack?"

"Of course, ma'am. We'd be happy. Very happy," he confirmed politely, his tone even, his facial expression unreadable.

-o-o-o-

The sun was casting long shadows, when the small convoy trotted down the main street of the dusty town of Hancock. Heyes and Curry scanned the surroundings alertly. When they passed by the sheriff's office, their eyes lingered on the sign, before they exchanged a look of relief.

As they broke eye contact, the Kid noticed Jack watching them. The young man didn't comment but kept a straight face and slowly shifted his focus to the horses again.

Only a short way down the street a sign indicated Doctor Henry Miller's Office, situated between a barber's shop and a carpentry store. In front of his place the woodworker was sanding a raw wooden box, about 6' long and 20'' wide.

"Convenient," Heyes remarked drily, which earned him disapproving glances from his companion. "I'm just saying." He shrugged and smiled apologetically. "You wanna go first, Thaddeus?"

Kid Curry squared his shoulders. "You want me 6' under?"

"No, to the doctor's I mean. Check on your hand." Heyes' smile was all innocent.

"I'm not sure that's much of a difference," the blond answered, throwing a sideways glance at the coffin-to-be. "And I don't think it's necessary."

"You're not scared, are you?" Heyes prodded.

"Nah, it's just not that bad. Almost healed up again." He hesitated for a moment. "And it is kinda forebodin', isn't it?"

"C'mon, don't tell me you believe in omens? And what will Billy think of you? Go on, be brave, and give a good example to the kid. I need you ready for action again as soon as possible. You know what depends on your swiftness."

The blond looked down to his swollen hand, up to the little boy watching him, and eventually slipped off his horse with a deep sigh of surrender. "One day I'll regret listenin' to you."

Doc Miller was a man in his early seventies with grey hair and a face resembling a dried plum. Kid Curry's wrist was already dressed up professionally. Now the old man checked on Billy, took his temperature and listened to his chest. "That doesn't sound good, young man, if you're not meant to harbor a brass band in your chest. Why don't you go to my assistant, Penny? She's going to make a nice mustard plaster and chase the guys out, alright?"

Jack hunkered down beside the boy. "What do you think, Billy; we goin' to see the nice lady?" Billy hesitated for a moment, glanced to his mother, and then laid his arms around Jack's neck, who lifted him up on his arms.

Doc Miller watched the both of them leave but held the mother back. "I'm sorry, ma'am. His condition is serious. He's running quite a fever and there's indication for pneumonia."

Delilah gasped and the color drained from her face. "Is there anything I can do for him?"

"The usual, keep him warm and dry. He needs rest and lots of fluids. Where are you staying here in town?"

"We're only passing through and were planning on moving on."

The old man shook his head seriously. "He must not be moved. Traveling would do him no good." With long-practiced routine he wrapped a portion of white powder in a small paper sheet. "Give him a pinch of this here powder in tea or water every two hours. It will help to break the fever. I'll check on him tomorrow. Can you stay in town?"

"I... I'm not sure we can do this. We'll set up camp just out of town and bring him in again, if it's alright with you?"

"Yes, if that's the best you can do. See you tomorrow then."

"We'll be here," she promised him. "Thank you, Doctor Miller."

-o-o-o-

Not far from town, the small group of traveling companions set up camp under the wide branches of a copse of old trees.

After supper, Jack helped clean the dishes. "We're goin' into town for a while, Missus Brock, checkin' out the saloon, washin' the trail dust down, and gettin' some news. You need anything before we go?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll tend to Billy and turn in early. I'd like to attend Sunday service since I've got the chance and pray for Billy. Could you watch after him in the morning?"

"Of course, ma'am. I won't be long. I won't be far away and I'll be here in a blink in case you need me."

"Alright. Thank you, Jack."

They exchanged a slight smile, before Jack turned away and joined his new friends for the short ride down the dusty street.

The Red Bucket Saloon was well-attended with a mix of local patrons and trail-worn strangers. The three men didn't draw particular attention when they weaved through the crowd and bellied up against the bar.

"First round's on me," claimed Jack. "Beer alright with you?"

Heyes and Curry nodded agreement and soon each of them cradled a mug filled with foaming golden liquid.

"Thanks again for your help..." Jack paused for a moment that felt too long. "Thanks." He raised his mug in the way of a toast, cracking the rare infectious smile of his.

The boys followed his example, then took a first swig of their drink. Heyes lifted his brows, pursed his lips and nodded in appreciation. "Someone knows his craft here."

They fell silent, enjoying their beer and panning the crowd. A few feet down the bar, a pair of cowboys passed the time with the contents of a whiskey bottle standing in front of them and talking loudly.

"He's been looking up his old men. Leaves a trail of dead bodies in his wake," the first of them told his friend. "Three of them are dead now. Rumor has it there was a fourth on the job. He'd be the only one left. Wouldn't want to be in his boots for sure."

"Last thing I heard, he was in Creede. Stole a horse and left a widow and her kids dead. Guess Racine's heading this way."

"How long ago?"

"About a week."

"So, he could be here already?"

"Yup, could be. Glad I don't have any business with the guy," the other said and knocked back his next shot.

"Let's hope he has no business with you. You sure you're not his last man?" He tilted his head to the side and grinned.

The addressee almost spit out his drink. "Heaven forbid! Sure as heck, I wouldn't be here anymore, if I were him. I like breathing."

"Yeah, a man can get used to that."

Both of them laughed again and refilled their glasses. "To other guys' problems!"

Kid Curry leaned into Heyes and asked in a low voice, "What's this about Racine's old gang?"

"Guess it's about their last heist," Heyes replied under his breath. "A coach with a fat payroll heading through a narrow pass. Good place. Tempting. Too tempting. No ways in, but no ways out, either. The job blew right into their faces. Big time gunplay. The law snatched Racine; his boys got off. No one ever heard about the money again. Maybe it was a set-up. Maybe there was a snitch. Or, maybe his boys were tired of his temper and got rid of him. Rumor has it one of them sold him out and got away with his pockets full of money. You know how folks are. Always in for a good story. I guess he heard the rumors, too."

"You think our young friend...?"

Heyes nodded. "Would explain a lot, wouldn't it?"

In unison they turned to Jack nursing his beer.

"You heard that guy?" Heyes asked, raising his voice.

Jack nodded, his face unreadable, but his eyes serious. "I'm headin' back to the woman and her kid. I don't like them bein' alone out there with a guy like that around."

"You're right," Heyes replied and emptied his mug in one swig. "We'll go with you."