“You sure he’s in there?” said Jeffus. He squinted at the cabin. “Don’t see no smoke from the chimbly.”
The marshal slid another cartridge into his Henry, then ran his wipe along the brass side. “Warm night,” he said. “And appearances to the contrary, Happy Jack is nobody’s fool.”
“So what you got in mind?”
“Go find his horse.”
“Maybe he brung it inside with him.”
“Doorway is too narrow. He’ll have it staked nearby. Find it and walk it around front.”
“Hell, Marshal,” said Jeffus. “What’s to keep him from plugging me?”
“Keep the horse between you and the doorway. Keep your head down.”
Shaking his head, Jeffus checked his revolver, then set out into the woods. Soon he came out of the trees, walking slowly alongside the big sorrel, ludicrously ducking and bobbing.
The marshal drew a bead on the horse’s head and yelled out the bandit’s name.