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He met my gaze. His casual lean switched to a stand. Quite naturally, he swaggered toward me, head slightly tilted, chin toward chest, eyes looking up from under his brow, shy, almost, but sure with shoulders straight, hips in perfect alignment. ‘Care to dance, ma’am?’ His voice was soft and gravely. I took his arm. He was tall, and his arms strong, and his looks chiseled and handsome. I let him lead, and swing me around the room, saying little, and feeling wonderfully lost yet somehow secure. The room was brimming with light and spinning, bodies swirling on every side my turning body, bodies sweating, howling in the hot middle of a cold night. Light and life in the midst of a dark and dead landscape. Maybe I would survive this sadness. ‘Let’s see the bonfire,’ I suggested. And without saying a word he led me out. The night was alight with the orange blaze of the fire. It was massive and its heat radiated out to me, the flames licking at me like a luscious tongue. I suddenly. “He was reported to have purchased a train ticket from Flagstaff to Denver, on the first day of this month. The man at the depot in Flagstaff told the local sheriff. The sheriff sent us a telegraph, telling us the ticket agent remembered the wanted poster with the man’s picture on it.”“Do you have one of the wanted posters? I’d like to have one to identify him by, if I ever run upon him.”“I have his full name and description, with another picture of him, besides the wanted poster, back in my office. I also have a map of Colorado I can let you have. You’ll need it, if you’re ever going to track this killer down.”Edson Hargrove, the bank president, waved the marshal and Hoyt into his office as soon as they were introduced.“Mr. Malone, I am willing to personally pay you two thousand dollars above the bank’s reward, and the reward offered by the law, just because he killed my wife and sister-in-law. Besides that, my bank is prepared to pay you ten percent of any money you may recover for.
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