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genuine. That much was obvious. Yet, somehow, they still didn’t ease Clint’s nerves. When she finally eased up on her hug, Allison found Clint gazing up at the stars as more and more of them showed up overhead.
    â€œThat wasn’t the first time Ordell was in a gunfight,” Clint said.
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œMostly a hunch. Part of it’s how he handled himself. I’ve seen the way people act when they’re under fire and it’s a rare man who can keep his nerve.”
    â€œHe’s a hunter,” she pointed out. “He lives by his gun. My father used to hunt a lot and he barely even flinched when they went off.”
    â€œIt’s different when someone’s pointing a gun at you and threatening to pull the trigger. Even if a man can keep his nerve with a gun in his face, there’s even fewer who can actually hold up once the lead starts to fly. One thing’s for certain, though. Animals are a lot steadier than men.”
    Allison shook her head as if a fly had buzzed into her ear. “Did you say . . . animals?”
    Clint nodded. “Something’s been nagging at me and I think part of it was the way Ordell’s horse reacted during that fight. It didn’t even twitch.”
    Since she didn’t seem to know what else to say to that, she asked, “Did yours?”
    â€œNo. That’s my point. My horse is like most others. It’ll get used to the sound of gunshots after enough of them are fired over its head. They have to train horses in the army so they don’t rear up or bolt once things get bad. That’s not the sort of thing you find in a trapper’s horse.”
    â€œMaybe he bought it from an old cavalry officer,” she offered.
    Clint let that settle for a moment before he said, “The man he killed wasn’t much more than a boy. Wasn’t even twenty yet.”
    â€œDoesn’t take twenty years to make a killer.”
    â€œHe was Ordell’s nephew.”
    Allison didn’t have an answer for that one. Instead, she took a breath and let her eyes wander toward the same stars that had caught Clint’s attention.
    â€œI don’t know why that still bothers me so much,” Clint said. “There’s been plenty of times a man’s been forced to shoot his own brother. Hell, that happened plenty of times during the war.”
    â€œIt sounds to me like it’s not just that one thing that bothers you, Clint. Maybe it’s all of these things that don’t sit right.”
    â€œMaybe. Or maybe I’ve just been around too long and seen too many things to let anything go.”
    â€œIf anything bothers you too much, that just means you need to set it right.”
    â€œThere’s not much left for me to do.”
    â€œIf Mark’s nephew lived here in town, then maybe the rest of his family did.”
    â€œThe boy lived with his mother,” Clint said.
    â€œDoes she even know he’s dead?”
    â€œThat’s a good question,” Clint said as he thought about what he’d heard from Ordell as well as all the things he’d heard from that nosy barber. “There might be a few things to see to around here after all.”

SIXTEEN
    Although Westerlake was a fairly large town, all Clint needed to do was pay another visit to Aldo and ask the barber where Miss Ordell lived. He said he needed to see her to pay her respects and that was exactly what he intended to do. Since the excitement of seeing that bear skin on display had spread through the town, the barber wasn’t exactly surprised that Clint wanted to check in on the sister of the man who’d put it there.
    It was an hour before noon and the day was already turning out to be a hot one. Clint made his way to a row of narrow, two-floor houses situated on the half of Westerlake closest to the woods. He had to knock on the door twice before anyone came to answer it.
    Eventually, the door opened a