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happened.”
    Preacher chuckled. “Chew a pebble, Tall.”
    He dismounted and helped the children down. He took them with him into the trading post side of the large, stout log building, which had been built like the corner tower of a fort, the windows narrow, with thick shutters into which firing loops had been cut.
    Ruben Duffey, the bartender, greeted him warmly. “Hog-raw, if it ain’t Preacher. What you got there?” he asked. “Sure, it’s a couple of partners you left out in the rain to shrink?”
    â€œNope. They’s kid-chillins right enough.”
    â€œSeems I might know them, don’t I? Lemme get a closer look?” Duffey studied Terry and Vickie a moment, and his full lips turned down in distaste. “I was right, Preacher. Ye’ve got yourself a pair of genuine juvenile criminals on your hands, don’t ye know? Sure an’ it’s a better thing if ye bring them with me. I’ve got the right place for them. Come along then, won’t ye?”
    Preacher led the youngsters in Ruben’s path, out through the back hallway, past a storeroom. Outside, the smiling Irishman directed them to a small storage building with a low door and no windows. He opened up and made a grand gesture with a sweeping arm to usher them inside.
    â€œFaith now, an’ we’ll just lock those heathen devils’ spawn in here for a while. Could be we might get enough men together later on to decide their fate, don’t ye know?”
    â€œThey are that bad, Ruben?”
    â€œAye, every bit of it an’ more, I’m sayin’.”
    They walked back inside, and were joined by Tall Johnson. Ruben poured whiskey for the three of them; then he told Preacher the real story behind Terrance and Victoria. His tale, in his lilting Irish brogue, took the listening men back three years.
    â€œThere was this family, there was. Name of Tucker. Sure an’ they was dressed like rag-a-muffins. Don’t ye know, I, like most folks, saw somethin’ strange about them right off, we did. A whole passel of kids they had, an’ nerry a whole brain among ’em, there wasn’t. There was something even more strange about them, wouldn’t ye know? This Tucker and his mizus looked enough alike to be brother and sister. Sure an’ they could be, for all I know. They squatted around the post for a few days; then they hauled out to a canyon some thirty miles northeast of here.
    â€œThat’s when things started happenin’.” Ruben leaned close and spoke in a confidential manner. “Sure an’ things started disappearin’. A man would lose his shovel, or a pig, or maybe a couple pair of long johns a-dryin’ on a bush. Then a prospector turned up dead. One day, ol’ Looney Ashton come in for a nip of the dew. He swore an’ be damned that two nights before, out around his digs, he saw that two-headed pair sneakin’ off with a brace of mules that belonged to Hiram Bittner. It was the full moon an’ he saw them right clear.”
    â€œStranger things have happened,” Preacher said dryly.
    â€œNo stranger than this tale gets. Ya see, the two little nippers were stark naked.”
    Silence held for a moment. Then a cherry-cheeked Preacher added verification to Ruben’s story. “They do like to get out of their clothes a lot. I found that out on the way here.”
    Ruben raised both hands. “So there it is, isn’t it?” He took note of the empty pewter mugs and poured more whiskey. “Whose payin’ for these?”
    Preacher and Tall turned to each other. “Preacher.” “Tall.”
    â€œAh, saints preserve us, I’ll buy, ’cause it’s good to see you again, Preacher, it is.”
    Ruben dropped coins into the wooden till under the bar and went on to tell how the little depredations, and an occasional killing, went on right up to the present. He concluded with a