Conn shook his head. “You can get my side of the story from Andrews. I don’t have time to sit around chatting. I got killers to hunt.”
Mayfield grinned slightly. “You’re clearly upset, Sullivan. Understandably. Emotion can make it difficult to understand the simplest communication.”
“I understand just fine.”
“I’m telling you to stop.”
“And I’m telling you I won’t.”
The marshal stared into his eyes. Again, Conn sensed the marshal was ready to brush that coat aside. “If you persist in chasing Toole, we are going to have trouble. The law does not tolerate vigilantism.”
Now, it was Conn’s turn to offer a cold smile. “Well, in that case, we aren’t hunting Toole. We’re just going for a ride.”
“You’re playing a deadly game, Sullivan.”
“So are you, Mayfield.”
“Where are you riding?” the U.S. Marshal asked.
“Out of town.”
“I was hoping you could be a little more specific. Where is Toole?”
Conn spread his hands. “I wouldn’t know. Besides, we’re just taking a ride.”
“I’m on your side, Sullivan. Help me help you.”
Conn just looked at him for a second. “I haven’t forgotten Arizona.”
“Neither have I,” the marshal said. Then he turned his attention to the men riding with Conn. “You men go home now. I’m a U.S. Marshal, and I’m on the case now. I know you were trying to do the right thing, so I’ll look the other way oneverything that’s happened to this point, but if you continue to help Sullivan, you’re crossing the law.”
McKay held up his hands, looking pale. “I ride with the law, not against it. Happy hunting, Marshal.”
Mayfield nodded.
“Sorry, Conn,” McKay said, “but this is trouble I don’t need. Why don’t you leave the hunt to him and come on back to my place. We’ll have some grub and drink some whiskey.”
Conn shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, and I appreciate your help. I’ll catch you down the trail.” He shook hands with the cattleman.
Mayfield eyed Sheffield briefly. “You’re Bill Sheffield.”
Sheffield nodded, his face impassive, and looked back at the marshal through hooded eyes.
“Well, now that this is over, Sheffield, you can ride on back to Stump Run,” the marshal said.
“Can’t,” Sheffield said.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m not done riding with Conn yet. I set out to do something, I finish it.”
“An admirable trait,” Mayfield said. “Unless, of course, you set out to do the wrong thing. Speaking of which, your boy’s Junior, right?”
Sheffield nodded again.
“You talk to Junior lately?” Mayfield said.
“Why?”
