“Here’s your beer, Jim.” Farley had easily anticipated Jim’s order and drawn the beer; after twenty years as a bartender he could tell when a man had worked up a thirst. She same sky and moon to Joe. He sat a moisture-beaded crock pitcher and mug on the counter. Jim decided it was no skin off his nose if the injun did escape again. This is as far as you’re going with me.” Jim pulled Joe down off of the mule and steadied him for a moment to let him get the use of his hind legs back before walking behind him on into the stone building. The thought came to him that he had done a whole lot of sleeping out underneath those same bright stars. Jim surely admired Injun Joe’s abilities, and held him almost in awe, but it never occurred to him to be proud or vain that he’d been the first man to ever catch him and bring him in. If my reckonin’s right, today might just be Sunday. “You’d sure win that bet, Vickie. Jim took the paper from him and held it
