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goin’ now?”
    “I’ve got to find a gun,” Lancaster said, “a cheap gun.”
    “Didn’t you get that advance you wanted from your job?”
    “The job wasn’t there,” Lancaster said, “but I did get some expense money. Enough for some clothes, maybe a cheap saddle and a cheap gun.”
    “There’s a rifle in the buckboard,” she said. “I brought it in case you needed it.”
    He stopped walking.
    “That was real thoughtful of you, Kimmie,” he said. “I should pick it up before you leave.”
    “Okay,” she said. “The buckboard’s in front of the general store. Follow me.”
    He did.
    It was an old Henry, but it was in working order—or would be when he cleaned it.
    “Shells?” he asked.
    “It’s loaded,” she said, “but I didn’t have any more shells.”
    “Okay, Kimmie, thanks,” he said. “Where are Zack and Ryan?”
    “Inside.”
    “Zack know about this?”
    “He won’t care,” she said. “He never touches that rifle.”
    “Okay,” Lancaster said, “thanks, Kimmie, for everything. I don’t know when I’ll be able to repay you…or even if…”
    “Someday, you will,” she said. “We’ll just wait and see.”
    They shook hands awkwardly. He sensed she wanted more, but he didn’t have any more to give.
    “Bye, Kimmie,” he said.
    “Good-bye, Lancaster,” she said. “See you around, huh?”

Fourteen
    Lancaster felt better walking the streets with the rifle in his hand, even though he wasn’t sure it would fire in its present condition. But he also needed a pistol and a holster. If the liveryman was the man to see for a used saddle, maybe he knew where to get a used handgun, as well. Or maybe Andy Black knew, but he was home and probably wouldn’t want to be disturbed.
    He went to the livery, and actually found the man brushing Crow Bait.
    “Told you I’d look out for him,” he said. “You didn’t have to come back and check.”
    “I’m not checking,” Lancaster said. “What’s your full name?”
    “Just Mal,” the man said. “What’s yours?”
    “Lancaster. You only got one name?”
    The man grinned, showed some gaps where there used to be teeth. “Men get to be our age, you realize one name’s enough, right?”
    “Okay.”
    “What can I do for you?”
    “I’m gonna need a rig,” Lancaster said. “Saddle, saddlebags.”
    “New I can’t help ya with, but used…”
    “Used is good.”
    “We can talk.”
    “I also need a gun.”
    Mal looked at the rifle in his hand.
    “A handgun,” Lancaster said, “and holster.”
    “New or used?”
    “Can’t afford new.”
    “We can talk.”
    Lancaster looked around. “Got ’em here?”
    “Let’s go in the office,” Mal said.
    “Lead the way.”
    Lancaster liked the way Mal stroked Crow Bait’s neck before walking away from him.
    Mal led him to a door in the back, which led to a small office with a rolltop desk and a trunk. In one corner were three saddles, stacked.
    “Sometimes folks don’t come back for their stuff,” Mal said. “Or they don’t pay their bill. Take your pick.”
    Lancaster walked to the saddles, separated them, and examined them. “This one looks like it’ll hold together. How much?”
    “Well,” Mal said, “it’s just sittin’ there gettin’ dusty…Twenty dollars?”
    “With saddlebags?”
    Mal walked to the chest, opened it, and pulled a worn pair of saddlebags. “Twenty-two, with the saddlebags.”
    “Deal.”
    Mal tossed the bags to him.
    “Now how about that gun?”
    Again, Mal reached into the trunk, came up with a rolled-up holster with a walnut grip of a pistol showing. He tossed it over. Lancaster deftly caught it, unrolled the leather. It was a Peacemaker with aworn grip, but it was generally clean and well cared for. So was the holster.
    “Somebody’s been oiling this leather,” Lancaster said.
    “The gun used to be mine,” Mal said. “I take care of it when I can.”
    Lancaster took it, checked the action on it, spun the cylinder. “How