Leroux got to the office early. Hadn't heard a lick from his deputies all yesterday afternoon. He'd stayed up late wondering what was taking them so long. A restless night made him rise with the sun. So when he found Russ and Crag in the office first thing in the morning, it caught him by surprise. Crag leaned back in the chair, boots up on Leroux's desk. Russ paced the room.

Leroux stopped in the doorway, head twitching towards the cells. They remained empty. "Where's Irving?"

Crag rolled his head back, pursing his lips and staring at the ceiling. That meant he had bad news and didn't know how to explain it. The dolt. Dumber than a donkey sometimes.

Russ stopped pacing. His body tensed like the reigns of a donkey tugged along by its owner. His face remained stoic. Dead.

"Well? Took you a whole day to get back. And it doesn't look like you've got anything to show for it. How about some answers, boys?"

Crag looked to Russ, who gave him a look that could churn milk. Crag cleared his throat and shoved his meaty hands in his pockets. "About that, Sheriff. Like you said yesterday. The Ace's got a smooth draw. Real good shot. We's followed 'im out there. After deputizing the boys. Had to drive a ways out, right up to the canyon. That filthy Terran made it pretty far. That steeder is something else. Don't know why Slim just let him have it. You should have seen it transform. Anyhoo. By the time we caught up to him—"

"Crag. Is your mind made of gravel? I swear, you're too simple to ever tell it to me straight. Russ? You mind explaining?"

Russ' gaze turned on Leroux. Unbridled hatred spilled from his wild pupils. Leroux almost got the impression that some of that rage was directed at him. But he knew his deputy better than that. Something bad must have happened to have Russ so upset.

Russ' voice scraped it's way out of his throat in a low growl. "He killed 'em all. 'Cept us. Everyone we brought with us. All dead. Pete. Milton. Edom, and..."

The last name he muttered, too low for Leroux to hear. "Who? Speak up."

Russ slammed his fist on the desk. "Quynn!" The name erupted from his mouth like a foul obscenity, like just saying it made Russ both outraged and ashamed at the same time.

Leroux realized his mouth hung open and snapped it shut. He knew Tracy was good. But his boys, especially Russ, were quick on the draw, and accurate as all get-out. And they had the element of surprise, approaching Tracy from behind. Perhaps his old pal expected it. Four men slain. Deputized men too, under his authority. His mind reeled. He moved over to his chair and sank into it.

"He just gunned them down?"

Russ wouldn't answer.

Crag fumbled over the words. "Uh, no. Not exactly. Milton and Edom, they lost control of their speeder. Went right off the edge. Got swallowed up by Noctis. Pete and Quynn ran smack into an avalanche. Boulders would have crushed them, but the speeder exploded first. They were gonners either way."

Leroux could not believe it. He looked to Russ for confirmation. Quynn and he were friends. That must be why he was so upset. Russ clenched his fists so hard his knuckles cracked, popping like dry logs sparking over a blazing fire.

"Our speeder got busted up. Half buried under the boulders. We had to walk all the way back. Didn't make it back until sometime this morning. I barely got any shuteye. Got me some boiling blisters on the bottoms of my feet and the backs of my heels."

Leroux snapped his hand closed. "Shutup Crag. Let me think. How'm I supposed to digest this with you rattling?"

Russ produced a cigarette from his pocket and stepped outside, leaving Leroux to decide what to do with the information Crag gave him.

Tracy was here for one purpose. Roy Rothspalt. If he got to New Oklahoma and apprehended Roy, that would be bad news for Leroux's sponsor, the man he reported to. Mr. McCrory would hear of this. Four men, deputized and acting for the law, dead. Killed by a Terran lawman. If Tracy wanted, he could inform the United States Marshal Service of what occurred. And that might be enough to incur the wrath of Terra, or at least the US government. Once they sorted out all of the details, they might send reinforcements out to support their marshal. A task force. Leroux could not deny his involvement. He had his own authority, but he didn't have the resources or the manpower to spit in the face of Terran Justices. They would come to him, demanding answers. And if they weren't satisfied, they'd drag Leroux himself all the way back to Terra to appear in court, especially since he was still a dual citizen. Even if he was deemed innocent, the time spent traveling the stars alone, he'd lose everything he built here, namely his sheriff's badge.

Leroux needed to speak with Mr. McCrory before things got out of hand, before word reached the tycoon's ear by some other means.

"Crag. You hold down the fort here. Russ and I have to make a little trip."

"How long you going to be gone, hoss?"

"I don't know. Make sure you don't burn this place to the ground okay. Make sure to have four tombstones erected for our fallen brothers. Make sure they have stars etched in 'em too. Those boys died deputized. We have some extra creds in the funds."

Crag nodded.

Leroux stepped outside. Russ smoked his stick so fast, he was already flicking the butte to the dirt and starting another.

"In a half hour meet me at the tracks by the quarry."

"Ain't no passenger trains leaving at this hour."

"We're hitching a ride on the industrial train."

Russ hawked spittle. "Conductor won't be pleased. Ain't supposed to be passengers."

"I know they don't have much room, but I can flash the badge and get us on. We'll ride in the conductor's quarters."

"To Noke'la?"

Leroux nodded.