"We got to move on, with or without Billy Bob," I said. "He ain't going to go, Albert. He's living a dime novel and he loves it."

I told Albert about the sheriff about how Riley was setting the old man up for a shoot-out. I told him how I thought it was what Billy Bob wanted. That he'd force the play, even if the sheriff wanted no part of it.

"I'm going to try and talk to him, Little Buster. See if I can put some sense in his head."

"He ain't the same as he used to be, Albert. He's gone a whole lot worse. I think he's got Wild Bill's gun spirit in him. You ain't never seen anything move as fast as he drawed on Jack. It was spooky, I tell you. With Wild Bill's shooting-iron spirit in him, and his own nasty disposition… Well, I think he's pushed too for, Albert, he'll kill most anybody."

"He won't kill me."

"He ain't the same, I'm trying to tell you."

"Bang," Skinny said loudly, drawing up both hands quick-like and pointing his fingers at me.

"Quit that now," Albert said. "Just quit it. It's making me shaky."

"He seen what Billy Bob done," I said. "He's mocking him." I propped up on one elbow. "I think we ought to go on without Billy Bob. Leave the wagon. Just get Rot Toe, sell some of our stuff and buy a couple mules, ride out of here."

"Can't," Albert said.

"You said yourself this was a bad town, Albert. You know that storm is coming and it ain't no regular storm. It's full of vengeance and it's Billy Bob it wants. But if we're here with that Hickok's body… We got to leave, Albert, you know that."

"I can't."

"What in Heaven's name has Billy Bob got hanging over you? It ain't slave days. You can go as you please. You don't owe him a thing. It don't make sense you letting him run your life like that."

"I got my reasons. Just shut up now, Little Buster. You're starting to make me mad."

I shut up. Skinny stretched out on the ground by me and fell fast asleep. I turned over and slept. Next thing I knew it was morning,

Skinny was still asleep, but Albert wasn't around. I got up and went outside. It was raining a steady drizzle and the sky was growling and lightning was flashing.

I went over to the wagon and found Albert inside looking at Wild Bill.

"He ain't nothing but bad luck," I said climbing inside. "Ain't nothing been good since we took him on."

"Wasn't all that good before we got him, was it?" Albert said, turning to look at me. "And before I picked you up, wasn't nothing for me to do but worry about Billy Bob. Now I got you too."

"Don't you worry none about me," I said. "I can take care of myself."

"You can, can you?"

"That's right. I'm seventeen now."

"So you are. Ain't nobody can take care of himself completely, Little Buster. We all needs someone sometime for something."

We were kind of smiling at each other then. I changed the subject before we got so chummy I felt like crying. "You ain't seen Billy Bob yet?"

"Stayed up last night waiting on him. He never showed."

"Still feel like you got to talk to him?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"When he shows, I reckon."

He didn't show all that day. The storm got worse as time went on. The wind had gotten so high the trees were swaying on either side of the street and you could hear them groaning and you could hear the lumber in the buildings in town creaking.

We did some things to kill the time. We put Wild Bill in his box. We made sure Rot Toe was high and dry inside his tarp-covered cage. We fed and watered him. We took the mules over to the livery where they'd be more comfortable from the storm. We played some cards and cheated each other. Somewhere during the day Skinny came awake and wandered off maybe going back to the saloon or bumming money for peppermints.

Finally it was dark, and still no Billy Bob.

We went out and took down the tent Albert had made, as the rain had run up under it and it wasn't a good place to lie anymore. We were folding it up, putting it in a corner of the wagon when Albert said, "I got no choice. I'm going over to the saloon. See if I can talk to Billy Bob."

"They'll kill you."

"If they don't, I reckon this storm will."

"All right, listen Albert. You got a mind to talk to Billy Bob, you let me go with you. I'll go in there and get him to come out. Try anyway. That way, no harm's done. Okay?"

"All right, Little Buster, we'll do it your way."

By the time we got to the saloon we were drenched from head to foot. The street was nothing but mud and water and the sound of the rain on the buildings was as loud as Indian drums. Or loud as I figured they'd be. I'd never heard any.

Skinny was standing outside the bat wings, his hands in his pockets, shaking a bit. The wind and the rain had brought some coolness with it. He smiled at us. We got up under the walkway porch with him and we all stood there for a while, shivering, looking out at the street.

"All right," I said finally, and I went inside.

Billy Bob was where I'd seen him last, and so was the bony saloon girl-wrapped around Billy Bob like a snake twisting on a limb. Riley was leaning over the bar, laughing at whatever Billy Bob wanted him to laugh at. Blue Hat was dangling on Billy Bob's every word, as if they were hooks.

I went over to Billy Bob. He didn't exactly look glad to see me, but he managed to be civil. "Buster. How you doing this fine day?"

"Its raining," I said.

"Not in here," he said, and everyone in the saloon laughed.

"It's the storm, you know?"

"Oh hell, don't start with the storm again," Billy Bob said, then he turned and told everyone about me and Albert believing the storm was haunted. That got him another good laugh.

When he was through, I said, "Albert's outside. He wants to talk to you."

"Anything a niggers got to say can wait," Billy Bob said.

"This is important."

"I said it could wait, kid."

"Billy Bob!" It was Albert's voice, sharp and clear. Billy Bob shook that saloon gal off like a bulldog shaking off water. He stood, turned, and one hand came to rest on a pistol butt. Albert had his hands on top of the bat wings and he was looking at Billy Bob. He looked pretty stern,

"Don't you come in here," Riley bellowed.

"What do you mean calling to a white man like that, nigger?" Billy Bob said.

Albert let a strange smile work across his face. When he spoke it was the voice he'd used that day in Louisiana to keep Billy Bob from shooting that wife-beat fella. "I got to talk to you. Now."

"I don't want to hear nothing about no storm, dammit." "It don't matter about the storm. We got to push on anyhow. We don't, you going to end up killing the sheriff."

"I ain't going to kill nobody unless they mess with me. Get on out of here and leave me alone, or I'm going to blow a hole in your black face, Hear?"

Albert held Billy Bob's gaze for a moment. "Have it your way, nephew," he said, and went away.

A look came over Billy Bob's face like I'd never seen before. It was sort of anger and sort of confusion. He went after Albert, and I followed on his heels, and the crowd followed out onto the boardwalk.

Billy Bob rushed out in the street, took hold of Albert's shoulder, and tried to spin him, but it was like trying to spin a tree. Billy Bob had to step around in front of Albert to stop him.