Joe glanced back to see if Farkus was awake. He was glad he wasn’t.

“He’s out again,” Joe said. “I don’t know how long he’ll be under. So while we’re just walking along here . . .”

Butch grinned in response, as if he’d been anticipating the questions.

“You know we’re going to be at the campground pretty soon,” Joe said. “Who knows who will be there, or what will happen. So since it’s just you and me, and before we show up . . .”

“What?”

“There are decisions that need to be made.”

“Yeah, I know,” Butch said, resigned. “When you agreed to make sure that helicopter was coming, were you lying to me?”

Joe said, “Yes. It was out of my hands.”

Butch nodded to himself, as if checking off a box in his mind.

“Were you setting me up?”

“No,” Joe said. “I was hoping I could be there to intervene. That’s the only reason I stayed with the EPA agent team. I wanted to be there when they found you so I could arrest you and keep you alive. Batista wanted blood.”

Butch glanced over sharply, as if he hadn’t considered that.

“The guy really wants to kill me, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does.”

“Do you know why?”

“Not yet. But you’ll be the first to know when I find out. And I will find out.”

—

A HALF-HOUR LATER, Butch nodded in the general direction of Saddlestring. “Are the people down there with me or against me?”

Joe shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s all happened so fast and the facts aren’t out yet. You haven’t had the opportunity to tell your side. But when you do, you’ll have some support, I think. Not when it comes to killing those agents, though. But no one in their right mind will think what Batista did to you is the right thing.”

Butch nodded to himself and didn’t turn his head to look at Joe. He seemed to be in turmoil, Joe thought.

Joe said, “Like I said, let’s handle this locally. Turn yourself in to Sheriff Reed and Dulcie Schalk. You won’t walk, but they’ll be fair.”

“And you’ll make sure of that?” Butch asked with skepticism.

“I’ll do my best,” Joe said, and bit his tongue. He didn’t want to say more.

“Okay, then,” Butch said. “Let’s do this right.”

“Thank you, Butch.”

Butch snorted, as if he really didn’t have a choice. Although he did.

—

JOE CAME right out with it: “Butch, did you kill those two EPA agents?”

Butch feigned shock at the question, then said, “Of course I did.”

“Were you alone at the time it happened?”

“Damn right.”

“They just showed up and got out of their car and you happened to have your .223 and you just blew them away?”

“That’s right.”

“Did either one of them threaten you, or draw a gun?”

Butch paused, as if recalling the moment. He said, “The first one, the younger one, never should have pulled his gun. He didn’t have a chance. I shot him first and he went down. The older one went for his weapon, and I got him before he could clear it. Hell, until that second, I didn’t know those bastards were armed.”

Joe felt his stomach clench. He wasn’t sure if it was the aftereffect of the morning, the lack of food, or what Butch had just confessed. Or all three.

Joe said, “So you’re saying you killed them without even knowing who they were?”

“That’s what I’m saying, Joe.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Butch hesitated, then said, “Just fine.”

“You know one of them had a family, like you and me?”

“How would I know that?”

“You wouldn’t, I guess,” Joe said. “But you should care.”

The bend of the river leading into the campground was in sight. For the first time that morning, he could hear the sounds of other people: motors racing, gravel crunching under tires, snatches of voices.

He didn’t have much time left.

—

JOE SAID, “So after it was done, after those two agents were down, then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“What did you do next?”

“I fired up my tractor and buried them.”

Joe nodded. “Why right there on your lot? I mean, it seems so obvious.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Butch said. “It isn’t every day I kill two guys. I just wanted them out of my sight, you know? I couldn’t just leave them on the ground with holes in them.”

“Right. So then what? You took their car?”

“Yeah,” Butch said. “They left the keys in it when they got out. I drove it up Hazelton Road to a place where I knew I could dump it. I aimed it at the edge of the road and jumped out of the car and watched it go over. I was hacked off it didn’t go all the way down the canyon to the bottom, but it got hung up in some trees instead.”

“So that was you?”

“Of course,” Butch said.

Joe trudged along, his legs on fire from cuts and bruises, his burned hand, his head wounds from the fight with Pendergast, and his muscles aching.

“So clear this up for me,” Joe said. “You drove the EPA car off the road, but how did you get back to your lot?”

Butch started to answer, then set his mouth.

“I can’t figure that one out,” Joe said.

Butch shrugged but wouldn’t meet Joe’s eyes.

“And when you came out here, to Big Stream Ranch,” Joe said, “you had to have had a ride or I would have seen your truck on the side of the road. How else would you get here?”

Butch shrugged.

Joe pressed, “When we first saw each other a couple of days ago, you know what we talked about.”

“Yes.”

“So I’m starting to get it, I think,” Joe said. “You could have just shot me at that point and no one would know. I didn’t know what had happened, or that anyone was looking for you. But you let me ride away.”

Butch looked over and squinted as if he couldn’t believe Joe even contemplated the fact that he could have hurt him.

Joe said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about it, the things you said and what we talked about. So I want to run something by you. This isn’t an official interrogation, Butch. This is just you and me. But I need to know.”

Butch took a deep breath and trudged ahead. Joe looked hard at the man, and saw himself.

And that’s what it was.

Simple as that.

He almost didn’t need to float his darkest theory out loud. But he did, anyway.

—

“YOU KNOW,” Butch said softly after confirming it, “when you think about all of this, it’s hard not to want to just throw up your hands and give up.”

Joe looked over, still partially stunned by what they’d discussed.

“These guys,” Butch said, “the EPA. They’re supposed to protect the environment, right? That’s why they exist.”

Joe didn’t respond.

Butch said, “They burned down the whole fucking mountain.”

Joe said gently, “I know.”

Butch barked a bitter laugh.

Joe said, “We’re close to the campground, Butch.”

—

THEY TRUDGED AROUND the bend of the river in the shallows and Joe noted the current had picked up slightly. The log bumped up against the back of his legs, as if it were a Labrador wanting to run again.

“We can float right through them,” Joe offered. “They may not even know we’re there. But that isn’t our deal.”

“A deal is a deal,” Butch said.

Since he’d confirmed Joe’s theory, Butch Roberson seemed to have deflated in height, power, and confidence. He seemed to Joe like a shell of his former self.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Joe said. “This was just between us.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to stick with your story?”

“Absolutely. And I trust you to keep it between us.”

Joe nodded.

“You’d do the same thing, wouldn’t you, Joe?” Butch asked.

Joe hesitated before saying, “Don’t ask me that.”

“You would. You’re a good man.”

Joe changed the subject.

“So do you want to float right through or pull over and give yourself up?”

Butch seemed overwhelmed that Joe had suddenly given him a choice. He said, “The second.”