The guy just kept making that weird sound and looking back and forth between Conn and Toole, who had stepped around in front and was keeping his distance with a revolver trained on Conn’s stomach.
“Dog,” Toole said, “get that scattergun. I ain’t taking chances with this one. Look how much he hates us.”
“We should hang him,” the one in the yellow slicker suggested, a weird light burning in his eyes. Staring at Conn, he licked his lips. “Just like we did the other one. Only this time, we should stretch it out. Make it last.”
“I want to talk to him first,” Toole said. Then to Conn, he said, “Hear that, boy? You answer some questions, maybe I won’t even let Duncan have fun with you.”
“What do you want to know?” Conn said.
Duncan flicked his wrist and let go with a line of rough sisal rope. The loop fell over Conn’s head to his shoulders then snapped tight around his throat.
Instantly, his hands went to the rope, meaning to keep it from choking him.
“Drop your hands, Sullivan,” Toole said, “or I’ll shoot you through the guts. Duncan, quit tugging on that thing. Let him talk.”
The tension came out of the rope. Duncan threw the other end over a branch of a nearby oak.
“Where’s Turpin?” Toole demanded.
“Dead,” Conn said.
“Dead? Dead how?”
“He had the misfortune to walk into the saloon where I was hunting you boys.”
“You shot him?”
“Yeah but not like you think. I gave him a chance.”
“That was stupid,” Toole laughed. “He was fast.”
“I was faster.”
“Yeah, well, that won’t do you any good now. Get your hands up high, buddy. Don’t try anything, or I’ll put some holes through you.”
Conn lifted his hands, knowing Toole meant it. The man couldn’t miss at this range.
“Dog,” Toole said, “pluck that shooting iron out of its holster.”
Dog pulled his gun.
“Not yours, dummy,” Toole said. “His.”
Dog dropped his own gun back in its holster and came over and took Conn’s Remington.
“How did you get out of the mine?” Toole said.
“Dug out.”
“How?”
“Like you might figure. One rock at a time.”
“Sheffield’s dead?”
“Yes, you killed him.”
“Good. I never liked Sheffield. He thought he was better than everyone else. Walked around with that sour look on his face all the time.”
