“Well, sure, sort of like Pony Flores,” Virgil said.

“She shy?” Stringer said.

“Indian took her,” Virgil said. “She had a pretty bad time till we got her back.”

“Her folks are dead,” Allie said. “I’m looking out for her.”

“Since we got her back,” I said, “won’t talk to nobody ’cept Virgil.”

Stringer sipped some whiskey.

“Who’s Pony Flores?” Stringer said.

“Tracker,” Virgil said. “Helped us get her back.”

Laurel whispered again to Virgil. He listened and nodded.

“He gave her a gun,” Virgil said. “She wants to show it to you.”

Stringer nodded. Laurel took the derringer out of the pocket of her pinafore and held it out in the palm of her hand. Stringer looked at it carefully.

“That’s a very fine derringer,” he said.

He looked at Virgil.

“Loaded,” he said.

“She knows how to use it,” Virgil said. “Makes her feel safer.”

Stringer nodded.

“What are you boys gonna do here?” Stringer said.

“We’re posturing that,” Virgil said.

“Or pondering,” I said.

“Pondering,” Virgil said. “That’s what we’re doing. Everett went to the Military Academy.”

“Could speak to the sheriff for you,” Stringer said.

“Foraged up some money in Brimstone,” Virgil said. “We figure to take some time and look around.”

“You boys good at anything but gun work?” Stringer said.

“Might be,” Virgil said.

“Like what?” Stringer said.

“We’re ponderin’ that, too,” Virgil said.

“Meet the new chief of police?” Stringer said.

His voice was neutral, but there was something in the way he said “chief of police.”

“Yep,” Virgil said.

“And?” Stringer said.

“Offered us a job,” Virgil said.

“Which you turned down,” Stringer said.

“Everett and me don’t like him,” Virgil said.