"We've had a lot of people out that way in the last couple of months, but we couldn't locate you. We understand you were trying to find us. Is that right?" The question caught him off guard. He shook his head. "No. I just missed you. I'd planned to be back in New Mexico at the end of the week." "I see. Then how did you learn that we were here?" "In a roundabout way, I guess." He paused. "I saw a car on the road. It belongs to a friend of mine named Lanny Wilcox, a hunter I met in California. He told me about a recent trip he took to the Navajo reservation in Arizona and told me you'd been there. I told him I thought I'd have a look for you." He shrugged. "We ran into each other out here about an hour ago. He told me you were here and we came right up." The man nodded. "I'd heard about you, Mr. Wallace. Lanny told me that you were pretty well known out here, but he hadn't realized you were from these parts." "You know Lanny?" "We were together in the Army Rangers." He paused, then added, "He's also a man that I don't know how to take at face value. He seems to know more about some things than a man should." "Yeah. I've thought the same thing about him." There was another pause. "As you may have heard, we're moving on to a new location. It's not something we've announced, but the press has found out about it and is following us. Lanny left and you were about to leave. I didn't want you to be left behind, and this seemed like a reasonable place to keep you until it was safe for you to leave the area." "What's the plan?" "We'll be moving out in a few days, but we don't want any of the reporters trailing us. We'll leave you at this place until we're gone and head north, then head back to Texas for a final meeting with the other men. It'll be a big day in New York City, but after that we'll disappear. We've got a lot of explaining to do and we don't want to face that mob in front of a courthouse. We don't expect any trouble, though, and we're counting on the fact that it will be some time before the newspapers get word of this move. We may be gone before anyone figures out what happened." "I thought the mobs were looking for me." "They probably are, but they won't find you. And by the time they do, we'll be safe in Texas." "I hope so. But what will you do with me?" "I think you'll stay on for a while as my guest. It's a big place. You can get lost out there." Bosch nodded. "I guess I'd like that." "I guess you would." They were silent after that and Bosch studied the other man's face. It was hard to place him. He could have been anywhere between thirty and sixty, but he had the look of experience about him. There was a weariness to him that suggested it had been a hard day's work. It was as if he were saying he was finished for the day, but there was something still in him that Bosch wasn't sure about. Bosch leaned back and closed his eyes. He wanted to be done with the day, to go home and let his body drop to sleep. But something held him back. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the other man looking at him as if waiting for a cue. "Ain't we gonna shake hands, you and me? You saved my ass back there. So it's only right that I come to you and say thanks. That and a few other things I won't mention right now." "Whatever you say." "I'll shake hands with you." He reached out and took Bosch's hand. "Tom Bosch. Call me Tom." "Good to know you. I'm Joe Pike." He let go of Pike's hand. "So where did you learn to shoot like that?" "I'm a long way from home." "I don't know, Tom. The way you held that rifle today, I thought you might be right here in California." Pike laughed. "I guess that gun had seen a lot of battles before today. It's as if it had been looking for you and had finally found you, is that right? That's how it felt." "Maybe." They sat in silence for a moment, both silent in the way the people on the train are silent when they are listening for an announcement. Pike had started to pull a plastic drinking straw from the side of the Styrofoam cup. He used it to sip the coffee that had cooled down to room temperature. "Tom, I've heard about you," Pike said. "You're a famous cop out in these parts, aren't you? I'm sure you have your own personal legend, but I can tell you a story about a couple of legendary outlaws that maybe you've heard of." "I don't know." "Me and the boys heard tell of a legend when we was in Texas. A man named Johnny Ringo ran this outlaw town, which was the closest town to a bunch of mines that were being worked on back then. It was in West Texas, and he was trying to keep the workers from breaking up his town and getting into the town of Chavez. You know the name of that?" "No." "It was Chavez. A lot of them Chicano kids go up there today and use their names for their homes. It's like being a famous bank robber in this day and age. It's like being a cop." He paused. "But those aren't the best part of it. He'd gotten his start as a Ranger and had run afoul of a captain called Ben Thompson. He and Ringo tangled and that's where the legend got started." Bosch didn't say anything. He was getting excited about what Pike was saying. He had heard stories of Texas lawmen killing men back in the good old days, but he had never heard any talk of them being involved in the murder of the actor. "You know," Pike continued, "I can go out to the end of the world and say I've met that actor from back when. It's been done so many times I could recite a poem about it. But it's one thing to know it and another to see it." Bosch made a point of finishing his coffee before asking any more questions. "You think you know the story and then one day you're on the train and there he is, the man who played that character in _Treasure of the Sierra Madre_." "Yeah, well, he's also got a story, but it's a tale of his own. Here's to us." He raised his coffee cup, then brought it down into the Styrofoam in a slow motion toast. Bosch smiled. "To us," he echoed. "I had a good day today, Joe. Good to meet you, and good to learn a bit about you. It was worth all the running and trouble I've caused you. You understand why I had to run and why I'd like to hear your story." "Let's just say I'm happy to see you, and all you've got to do is tell me that. If I put that together with what you said about me being down on the street, I'll believe you." Pike smiled and nodded. "I need to tell you about that. I hope to get to sleep soon. Things are stirring and this was only the start." "What do you mean 'things are stirring'? What kind of things?" "I've come a long way with this, and the truth is I'm on the run from some serious questions I'm being asked." "Who's asking you?" "That's a story that is longer than I need." Bosch started to say more but thought better of it. He didn't want to know what kind of trouble his acquaintance was in, and knew if he pressed Pike he would learn things without his wanting to know them. He figured it was probably best to put the