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Shaunessy asked. “What did you think of it?”
    â€œYou don’t want to know what I think, John.”
    â€œYeah, I do,” Shaunessy insisted. “Come on, Fred. What do you think?”
    â€œOkay, since you insist,” Dodge said. “I think you are all a bunch of no-account, murdering, law-breaking, cowardly scoundrels.”
    Shaunessy stood up so fast his chair fell over.
    â€œYou got no love for John Heath, Fred,” he said. “I know that. You got no call—”
    â€œI’m wearin’ a badge, John,” Dodge said, “and you boys committed murder. I got call.”
    Shaunessy looked at Clint, then.
    â€œYou’re Adams, right?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWell, whataya think?”
    â€œThat goes for me, too, Shaunessy,” Clint said. “I’ll back Deputy Dodge all the way.”
    Dodge turned his back and leaned on the bar. Clint followed. Shaunessy stood there for a few moments, then righted his chair and sat down. The mob was quiet.
    â€œWhat happened, Ike?” Dodge asked.
    â€œHell, Fred,” Roberts said, “couldn’t have been more than half a dozen guns on the mob. Will Ward practically left the door open for them.”
    â€œThat’s Ward’s son, his jailer,” Dodge said.
    â€œIt was planned, Fred,” Roberts said. “I didn’t know nothin’ about it.”
    â€œI know you didn’t, Ike.” Dodge dropped some money on the bar.
    â€œHell, Fred, you’re a deputy,” Roberts said. “You don’t have to pay.”
    â€œNo, I ain’t,” Dodge said, “and yeah, I do.”
    He walked out, Clint following him. The first man they encountered was Sheriff Jerome Ward.
    â€œJesus, Fred, there you are,” Ward said. “A goddamned lynch mob practically killed my son breakin’ Heath out and then they hung him—”
    Dodge stopped Ward by taking his deputy commission from his pocket, tearing it up and throwing it in the man’s face.
    â€œYeah, I know about it, Ward,” Dodge said. “And you’re an accessory before and after the fact.”
    He took his badge off and dropped it at the man’s feet.
    He walked away.
    Ward looked at Clint.
    â€œYou’re Adams, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with—”
    â€œThe law’s the law, Ward,” Clint said. “If it was me, I would have stuck that badge up your goddamned ass.”
    He turned and walked away.
    Â 
    As it turned out, the townspeople and the miners didn’t appreciate a sheriff who would conspire with a lynch mob.
    Ward did not even run in the next election, and Bob Hatch was elected Sheriff.

TWENTY-TWO
    TOMBSTONE, ARIZONA TERRITORY
1886
    Â 
    Clint had managed to replay the entire Bisbee Massacre in his head while taking his bath. When he finished, he stepped out, bathed and cleanly shaven, and decided he needed some new duds to go with his otherwise fresh appearance.
    He spent some time buying a couple of shirts, some new trousers, socks, and underwear, but stayed with the same hat, which he’d had for some time.
    After his shopping he went back to the hotel to his room to change into his new clothes. By then it was about time to go over to the Bird Cage and check it out while waiting for Dodge. And he was looking forward to that steak.
    Â 
    As he entered the Bird Cage he saw that little had changed, but it still felt very different to him. Must have had something to do with Doc Holliday’s faro table being tended by someone else. Also, no Wyatt Earp—no Earps at all.
    He went to the bar and ordered a beer, looking at himself in the mirror on the wall behind the bartender. He wondered how many famous and infamous men had looked in the same mirror? He also wondered what they saw?
    â€œPassin’ through?” the bartender asked. He was young—too young to have been there during the O.K. Corral or