And Sadie I had been watching and calculating from the moment she arrived at his ranch. You sent word. He kept his voice very quiet. Two days ago. The revolver didn't move.
When you rode south to check the far pasture, I went to the Benson road and waited for a rider heading east. I had the letter ready. I left it with a man named Calhoun. He knew the deputy marshal. He stared at her across the dark room.
You didn't ask. So I did it. He turned back to the front of the house. Quillen. He pitched his voice clearly through the shut door.
I know where your camp is. The alkali seep on the north face of the Dos Cabezas ridge. The marshal's office in Tombstone knows it, too, from a report filed two days ago with a federal deputy. The silence outside stretched out. You have about 4 hours before that deputy arrives.
You can try to take two witnesses out of a fortified position in the dark, knowing you've got two men down and federal help coming, or you can cut your losses and ride. That's the arithmetic. He heard Quillen moving. Not toward the house, away from it. Then a horse, then two, then nothing but the November wind moving through the cottonwoods.
Mattis let out a long slow breath. Across the room, Sadi straightened up from the corner and lowered the revolver. The man at the kitchen table hadn't moved. The one face down on the floor was keeping absolutely still. You could have told me.
You would have tried to handle it yourself, alone, at night, approaching their camp. And Quillen would have seen one man coming and adjusted. Matter of fact, no accusation in it. My way gave us two positions instead of one. He thought about this honestly for a moment.