"He was almost half decent for a minute," Madora said. "Then the ninety-nine percent bastard started to show."

"You've got to hand him that," Flynn said. "He's consistent." Flynn was silent, riding, following the sway of his mount. Then, "Joe, where does he get his authority for this?"

"I hadn't thought of it."

"The orders said the army wouldn't recognize us. If there was an agreement with Mexico, there'd be an expedition."

"With a lot of noise," Madora added. "And you'd never find Soldado."

"That's not the point. What does the general say about this? I don't think it's something that can be kept from him."

"Deneen's a talker," Madora said. "Maybe he can explain it so it sounds legal."

"Maybe." Flynn shrugged it off then, saying, "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm leadin' Deneen's grand tour of post inspections. With Three-cents and his Coyoteros along to add color."

"You could do worse."

"Like what?"

It was dark when they turned off Commercial Street onto Stockman, riding past the Republic House on the corner. They were both staying there and they boarded their horses at the livery stable behind the hotel, on Stockman. They dismounted in front of the wide doorway framing the darkness inside.

"I wonder where the man is?" Madora said. He stopped just inside, blinking his eyes.

Behind him, Flynn said, "Seems to me there was a lantern on a nail along the boards there."

"Over here?" Madora moved into the darkness.

"This side of the first stall."

Madora's hand went into his coat pocket and came out with a match. He scratched it against the board partition and just ahead of him Flynn saw a yellow flare and Madora's face close to the boards.

And the heavy, ringing, solid slam of the rifle report was there with the match flare. Flynn went down instinctively. The match went out and he heard Madora gasp as if he'd been hit hard in the stomach, and the sound of his weight falling against the partition.