Bad to the Bone (28 page)

The great black beast knew that his boss had forgotten him again, but his lot was no different from any other mount in Escondido, and at least he had a trough of clear water. I'd better rest while I have the chance, thought he. Crazy two-legged son-of-a-bitch always lands in trouble, and he'll probably get me killed one of these days.

The melancholy Hamlet of horses dozed fitfully, as stars glittered above the little town of Escondido. Laughter erupted at the bar of the Last Chance Saloon, where a cowboy at a nearby table won the next deal, while across the backyard, a few hundred yards away, J. T. Sturgis lay naked on a cold slab in the undertaker's office.

The room was dark, for the undertaker was enjoying certain acrobatic acts in a bedroom behind the Last Chance saloon. Sturgis hadn't been bathed or undressed, and appeared as when he'd fallen, with the same expression of wonderment and relief on his distorted features. Here lies a brave soldier who died in pursuit of his duties, as he saw them in his heart. The moon shone impartially on death, love, and lost illusions, as Texas spiraled through the cosmos, heading toward a bright new morning.