“What-”

“You heard me right-a new trial! With about an eighty per cent chance of going free. But you have to break out and ruin any chance you ever had!”

Bowen stared at him. “How do you know?”

“We heard from Lyall Martz.”

“Karla didn’t tell me anything about a new trial! How was I to know-”

“She told you about the lawyer!”

“That was talk.”

“Talk!” Demery said hotly. “Those two have been working for you for a month-Karla pleading at Lyall and Lyall pulling more strings than a four-team driver. And all the time you’re thinking how to do it the hard way. You couldn’t wait. Got to bust out with your bare hands as if that would prove something.” Demery moved around the end of the bar. He poured whiskey into a glass and pushed it at Bowen. “Have a drink.”

Bowen exhaled slowly. He raised the glass and drank off the whiskey. He tried to smile then. “I guess my timing’s poor.”

“I guess it is,” Demery said. He hesitated before adding, “But maybe not so poor to be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Demery looked at Falvey. “Willis, if this man gives himself up, will you look after him, be responsible for him till a marshal comes from Prescott?”

Falvey hesitated. “I don’t see how I could.”

“You could stay right here. We’ll lock him in a room and you could stand right there at the bar till the Prescott man comes.”

“I don’t have the authority-”

“Damn it, take the authority!”

Falvey shook his head. “It’s out of my jurisdiction.”

“Willis, the man just saved you from getting your head beat in!”

“I’m sorry-”

Demery shook his head. “He’s sorry.”

Bowen placed his elbows on the bar, leaning toward Demery. “What’d the lawyer find out, Mr. Demery?”

“All the things that should’ve come out at the trial,” the station agent said. “Lyall found the man who’d forged the cattleman’s name on the bill of sale.”

“Then Earl didn’t do it.”

“No,” Demery said. “He didn’t do it. He paid to have it done.”

“You’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure. This forger’s name is Roy Avery. He confessed to his part and told everything he knew.”

Bowen shook his head. “I never heard of him.”

“Avery says he never heard of you either,” Demery said. “He signed a statement that it was his understanding Manring was in it alone. He said you must’ve been hired just as a hand.”

“How’d the lawyer get Avery to make the statement?” asked Bowen.

“Lyall’s full of tricks,” Demery said. “But he might’ve just held a gun on him for all I know.”

“I’m obliged to him.”

“You sure as hell are.” Demery paused before saying, “That’s some partner you’ve got. Takes you to jail with him.”

“I don’t call him a partner.”

“But you break out together.”

“That’s a long story.”

“I bet it is.”

“Listen,” Bowen said, “till Karla started this, Earl was innocent as far as I knew. I was mad because he got me into it, but after a while I thought: If you have to live with him then you might as well make the best of it. I never cared for his ways, but I never had cause to doubt him till Karla talked to the lawyer.”

“But after she talked to him,” Demery said, “and told you about it, you still teamed with him to break out.”

“When you’re behind the fence,” Bowen said, “you don’t think the same as when you’re outside. A chance comes to run, you take it-even if you have doubts about the man you’re running with.”

“But no doubts now?”

“I guess not.”

Demery said, “I still don’t know why he didn’t clear you at the trial. He didn’t gain anything by your going to prison.”

Bowen shook his head. “I don’t know either. But we’re going to find out.”

“Knowing won’t do you any good,” Demery said, “unless you get out of here before Renda comes.”

“No, Mr. Demery, I don’t think I’ll leave now.”

“Frank won’t accept this lawyer thing. He’ll think up an excuse to shoot you.”

“I’ll take a chance.”

“What about the Mimbres?”

“Damn-everything at once.”

“You got a lot to think about.”

“But you take the important one first, don’t you?”

“That’s what they say.”

“And that’s Earl. Earl’s not leaving either.”

As Bowen said this, he heard the back screen door slam and he stepped around the end of the bar to be facing the doorway. Lizann’s revolver was in front of him on the bar. Manring’s steps sounded from the kitchen, then he was in the doorway, standing hip-cocked and wearing Willis Falvey’s Colt.

“You coming?”

“We’re not going anywhere, Earl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Get to it, Bowen thought, and he said, “Your friend Avery made a statement.”

Manring straightened slowly, letting his hands slide from his hips. “Are you talking to me?”

“You know I am.”

“I don’t know any Avery. Avery what?”

“You’ll meet him again at the trial.”

“Somebody’s been fooling you, boy.” Manring’s eyes went to Demery. “What’s he been making up?”

Bowen raised his elbows to the bar. “Unstrap the gun, Earl, and we won’t have to talk so much.”

“What’s he been telling you?”

“I already said it. Avery made a statement and there’s going to be a new trial. You’re going to be there to tell it in your own words.”

Manring shook his head. “Corey, a man can talk you into just about anything, can’t he?”

“I guess he can.”

“A real honest-to-God do-gooder.”

“You better start unbuckling the belt.”

“Corey, don’t you see what he’s done?” Manring shook his head again and a faint smile showed in his beard. “He’s made up that story to stall us. He figured how to get to you right away and made up this story about a new trial. We already had one. They don’t try a man twice. Don’t you know that? A man can’t be tried twice for the same crime. That’s a law.”

Demery said, “There’s a pile of poor reasoning going on in this room.”

Manring’s hands moved to his hips again as he glanced at Demery. “If I was in your shoes I’d quit pushing it.”

Watch him, Bowen thought. Every move. Briefly his eyes dropped to the revolver on the bar. Looking up again, its position was in his mind and he knew where his hand would go if it had to.

“Corey,” Manring said. “There’s a reward for helping bring back escaped convicts. That’s what the old man is thinking about. It’s worth making up a story for.”

“Earl, why didn’t you tell at the trial I was innocent?”

“I did! We both were.”

“You know what I mean.”

Manring shook his head wearily. “If you’re going to keep talking like that, I’m going on by myself.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Manring paused, staring at Bowen. “I’m walking out, Corey. If you want to stop me, you’ll have to shoot me in the back.”

Bowen said nothing.

“Corey, I don’t have any fight against you. Even right now.” Manring’s voice was quiet and seemed edged with disappointment. “But I can’t stand here and listen to any more. If you want to stay, all right. Then we’ll part company right now.”

His eyes dropped and he turned to walk through the doorway, but he stopped in the middle of his stride with the unmistakable sound of a hammer being cocked-a thin, metallic click, and after that, silence.

Facing the doorway, Manring didn’t move. Then, slowly, in the silence, he seemed to relax and he said, “All right, Corey.” He turned carefully, then shook his head seeing the revolver leveled at him. “Now what’re you doing that for?” He started toward Bowen. “Put the gun down, Corey. We’ll talk it over-get everything out in the open.”

“Unfasten the gun belt,” Bowen said. “Let it drop.”

Manring came on. Reaching the bar, he said, “For a minute there, Corey, you scared hell out of me. I almost thought you were going to shoot.” His left hand brought the whiskey bottle toward him and he glanced at Bowen. “You want one?”

Bowen shook his head. His hand on the bottle-he was thinking it, expecting what was to happen, the next moment going to his left away from the end of the bar as Manring’s hand suddenly swept the whiskey bottle at him. With the sound of it smashing against the wall, Manring’s hand was drawing the Colt, clearing it from the holster as he pushed himself away from the bar, seeing Bowen with a hand and a knee on the floor, and at that moment Bowen fired. It was over as suddenly as it had started.