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making his escape, guide his words and actions.
    “That’s enough, Tanneman. We’ll head back now,” Marshal Timble said, adjusting the shotgun in his arms.
    Tanneman hated the raw-faced man. The ex-Ranger took a deep breath and said, “Of course, Marshal.”
    “What the hell are you doing anyway? Praying?”
    “You wouldn’t understand.”
    That evening Gaggratte took his post and the marshal left. Near midnight, Peter Gaggratte opened Tanneman’s cell. They walked into a dark night with only a handful of stars watching, passed the drunken deputy and made their way silently to the back, where two horses were already saddled and waiting. A filled canteen dangled from the saddle horn of Tanneman’s horse.
    “We did it! We did it!” Gaggratte said, barely able to contain his excitement. “Aggie will be so happy. We’re going to buy some land. Raise some beef.”
    Tanneman hushed him as they rode out.
    “How far is it to my money again?” Gaggratte asked with a huge smile.
    “This way.”
    An hour outside of town, and a half mile off the main road, Tanneman Rose dismounted near a rather large cave overlooking a creek that showed little interest in keeping its water moving. Three cottonwood trees stood as sentries. He remembered the place as one that he and Hillis had used to hide from a posse.
    Gaggratte pulled alongside him.
    “There it is, my friend.” Tanneman pointed.
    “In that cave? There?”
    “Right. You’ll need a candle and matches. Like I said,” Tanneman said, dismounting and tying his reins to a branch.
    “Got ‘em.” Gaggratte jumped from his saddle, tied the reins to another branch and immediately went to his saddlebags. It was awkward holding his rifle and looking for the materials at the same time.
    “Let me help.” Tanneman smiled. “Step back.”
    “Sure. Sure. They should be right there,” Gaggratte said, so excited he couldn’t keep from jumping. “Oh, my, will Aggie be happy. She’s the one who told me to do this, you know.”
    Tanneman’s face darkened. “No, I didn’t know. I told you not to tell anyone.”
    “Well, Aggie’s not going to tell anybody. She’s my wife.”
    Finding the candle and matches, Tanneman turned from the saddlebags and held them out. “Here you go. Maybe I should go in there first.”
    Gaggratte frowned. “No. I don’t think so. You just might not bring it all out.”
    “Now why would I do that?” Tanneman held back a smile and motioned for the guard to enter the cave. “Better light the candle out here. It’s dark in there. You’ll need to go in…oh, about twenty feet. Off to your left. Saddlebags are under some rocks. You can’t miss it.” He paused and added, “Remember now, we’re going to split it. Might be more’n six thousand in there.”
    Gaggratte propped his rifle against his leg and popped a match against his belt buckle. His too-eager movement took away the flame. A second match produced a better result. After lighting the candle, the excited guard disappeared into the dark fissure. Immediately, Tanneman looked around, found a sizeable rock at the edge of the creek and climbed above the cave entrance.
    After a few minutes, Gaggratte came to the cave’s entrance. “I got it! I got it!”
    Tanneman slammed the rock into his head and the guard crumpled. The dust-covered saddlebags flew toward the creek.
    “Stupid fool,” Tanneman said, pulling the rifle from Gaggratte’s body. Blood was working its way down to the creek bed. Tanneman retrieved the saddlebags and left them near the waiting horses.
    A shot from Gaggratte’s gun to the guard’s head made certain he was dead. As if nothing had happened, Tanneman sat beside the body and repeated the chant that was becoming his own ritual, grasping his jaguar necklace. He stood and looked around. If he could find a crow, he would kill it and drink some of its blood. He had decided this was a tradition of his previous life. To kill a crow would grant him success over his