“Went behind the building.”

“Answering a call of nature,” Jean said.

He scowled. “She shouldn’t have gone off by herself.”

“She may not want an audience,” Jean explained.

“Damn it. Barb!” he yelled.

No answer. He called again, and Larry saw a trace of worry in his eyes.

“She probably can’t hear you,” Larry said. “The wind and everything.”

“Take these, okay? I’ve gotta make sure she’s okay.”

Jean and Larry each took two bottles from his arms. “She’s only been gone a couple of minutes.”

“Yeah, well...” He hurried away, jogging toward the far end of Holman’s.

“Hope he doesn’t tear her head off,” Jean said.

“At least he’s worried about her. That’s something, anyway.”

“I sure wish they’d quit bickering.”

“They must enjoy it.”

Jean wandered toward the road, and Larry stayed at her side. The bottles of beer felt cold and wet in his hands. He took a drink from the one in his right.

“You’ll be having to go yourself, if you don’t watch it.”

“Don’t let Pete come to my rescue,” he said, and turned his attention to the town.

The central road had broad, gravel shoulders for parking. The sidewalks were concrete, not the elevated planking common to such old west towns as Silver Junction, where they’d spent the morning. The citizens had made some modern improvements before leaving Sagebrush Flat to the desert.

“I wonder why they left,” Larry said.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t live anywhere that doesn’t have movie theaters.”

“Well, I don’t see any.”

Neither did Larry. From his position in the middle of the road, he could see the entire town. Not one of the buildings had a movie marquee jutting over the sidewalk. He saw a barber pole in front of one small shop; a place on the left with a faded sign that proclaimed it to be Sam’s Saloon; about a dozen other enterprises altogether.