“I’m not sure I knew either.” Bowen said. “Or know yet.” He saw Karla and moved past Demery to meet her. “Is Willis all right?”

Karla smiled. “He’s in bed with your friend. Propped up with a drink next to him and pen and paper on his lap. He asked for it. He said if he didn’t do another thing, he was going to get it off his chest right now…Come see.” She took his hand and as they walked off toward the house, she asked, “But what about Lizann?”

Lizann, Bowen thought wearily. You forgot Lizann. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s gone by now. If she is, Willis is better off without her. But maybe she’s learned her lesson…And a few more maybes for good measure.”

“You’re tired,” Karla said quietly.

All that he had been thinking and trying to remember was still in his mind; though less vividly now and as he walked toward the adobe, Karla close at his side and the awareness of her coming over him more strongly, more relaxingly, the pieces of conversation and the images began to dissolve: the Mimbres, Willis Falvey, the road, even Frank Renda-there was no reason to think about them now. Somehow it had happened and somehow it was over.

Only Karla remained.