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it's a bad thing, Lord, but we must face up to it. I never fit Indians, Lord, because they was friendlies. And they had to go, and I'm plumb sad about that. But this kinda thing, Lord, this has got to stop so our moun tains and our plains and our valleys shan't suffer under the cloud of Your wrath . .. Amen."
    Half the town was there, not many people, the store keeper and the blacksmith and some others. A chorus of murmured amens fell softly on the night. Buchanan and Kovacs began to shovel dirt into the grave.
    The woman was tearless. She stood with Mrs. Kovacs and the couple who had ridden with them, the Whelans, a young man with a face too old and a young woman, pretty but with eyes that could grow Hard and cold. They owned a small ranch, they had lived a lot in other places, and they knew what had to come. Raven Kovacs rode a buck skin pony from which she did not dismount. Jack Trevor held his hat over his heart and was silent.
    The sound of clods falling on the dead man was forlorn. Some of the townsfolk turned away, the others followed until there was the small knot of them who were aware of what was portended. Buchanan knew who they were by now. He plied the long-handled shovel, and his mind went around, and he knew that once again he was in for it.
    When the task was finished he said to Trevor. "You know where Bradbury might be?"
    "I do."
    "Will you take me to him?"
    "A pleasure," said Trevor.
    "There's gunnies around," Rob Whelan warned. "We better cover you."
    The wife, Fay Whelan, wore a gunbelt and a holster as though they belonged upon her.
    Buchanan said gently, "Why, now, it's against my habit, but I happen to be carryin' a Colt tonight. Don't put your selves in no trouble for me."
    "Nor I," said Trevor. "They won't make a move in town this night."
    "We must make plans," said Kovacs. "They will move when they have time to think."
    "Better go on home," Buchanan said. "I'll come to you when I can learn a thing or two."
    Kovacs said, "Yes. Best to go home now. Meet tomor row at my place?"
    "There's gonna be a war," said Whelan. "I been in range wars. I'm warnin' yawl."
    The old mountain man said, "I knew Adam Day. He was good to me. I will ride here and there. Then I will let you know."
    "That is good," said Kovacs. "Nobody knows where Dan Badger rides."
    Buchanan said, "Yeah. Well, drop my gear at the hotel. I'll be seein' you."
    Amanda Day came to him. "I'll go with the Kovacs tonight. But I want to thank you, Buchanan. I want you to know I believe in you."
    "Just don't fret too much," he said. "It's a hard way to live, but don't fret too much."
    He watched them go. The Indian girl rode the pony as though born in the saddle. The wagon rumbled, the Whelans , always side by side, went into the night. Trevor in haled.
    "A man makes a choice, eh? Must do. It's a bad situa tion, Buchanan."
    "Whelan. He looks familiar," said Buchanan.
    "It is told that he was once a hired gun. The lady, well ... a dance hall girl. They married and came up here and homesteaded. But they are cattle people, so their stock is vulnerable, on open range, y' see?"
    "I see it too well," said Buchanan. "Let's talk to the colonel and them."
    They walked to town. Trevor was incisive and clear in his recitation. He laid out the scene from the point of view of the ranchers.
    "There are rustlers. We've all lost beef. But Adam Day was no rustler. His mistake was in mauling Pollard. You know, one of my own men was along when they did it. I've long suspected my employees are not to be trusted."
    "Then you're in real trouble, Trevor."
    "Oh, yes."
    "You stand to lose a lot."
    "Quite."
    "They didn't let you in on the plot against Day?"
    "Of course not. I believe that was Pollard's revenge. I believe Crane and Fox wanted to begin a war, and this was the way Pollard chose."
    "You tote a gun, Trevor?"
    "Beneath this jacket. Snug, you see?"
    "If you can get it out."
    Trevor made a lightning pass. A short-barreled Smith & Wesson .38 appeared in his hand.