"It don' really matter, boy.
I got it good this time. I's th'ough travelin'."
Charlie's voice came from the back of the cave.
"It'll be dawn in another hour. We better git movin'."
"You go, Charlie. I'm stayin' here with Mike."
Mike pushed himself to a sitting position, his back against the wall of the cave.
"Don' be a fool, boy," he said.
Max shook his head.
"I'm stayin' with you."
Mike smiled. His hand reached for Max's and squeezed it gently.
"We's friends, boy, ain't we?
Real friends?" Max nodded. "An' I never steered you bad, did I?" Mike asked. "I’m goin' to die an' they's nothin' you can do about it."
Max rolled a cigarette, lit it and stuck it in Mike's mouth.
"Shut up an' rest."
"Open my belt."
Max leaned across his friend and pulled the buckle.
Mike groaned as the belt slid off. "Tha's better," he said. "Now look inside that belt." Max turned it over. There was a money pouch taped to the inner surface. Mike smiled. "They's five thousand dollars in that pouch. I been holdin' out for the right time – now.
It was for the day we lef' this business."
Max rolled another cigarette and lit it.
He watched his friend silently.
Mike coughed. "You was born thirty years too late for this business. They ain't no mo' room in this worl' for a gun fighter. We come in at the tail end with nothin' but the leavin's."
Max still sat silently, his eyes on Mike's face. "I'm still not goin'."
Mike looked up at him. "Don' make me feel like I picked the wrong one back there in that prison," he said. "Not now when I’m a dyin' man."
Max's face broke into a sudden smile. "You're full of shit, Mike."
Mike grinned up at him.
"I kin hold the posse off all day.
By then, you'll be so far no'th, they'll never catch up to you."
He started to laugh and suddenly stopped as he began to cough blood.
He reached up a hand to Max. "He'p me to my feet, boy."
Max reached out and pulled Mike up. The big man leaned against him as they moved toward the mouth of the cave.
They came out into the night and there was a small breeze just picking up at the edge of the cliffs.
For a moment they stood there, savoring the physical closeness of each other, the small things of love that men can share, then slowly Max lowered his friend to the ground.
Mike looked down the ridge.
"I can hol' them here forever," he said. "Now, 'member what I said, boy.
Go straight. No more thievin'. No more gun fightin'.
I got you' word, boy?"
"You got my word, Mike."
"If you breaks it, I sure's hell'll come back an' haunt you!" the big man said.
He turned his head away and looked down the ridge. "Now git, boy," he said huskily. "Dawn is breakin'." He reached for the rifle at his side.
Max turned and walked over to his horse.
He mounted and sat there for a moment, looking back at Mike. The big colored man never turned to look back.
Max dug his spurs into his horse and it leaped away.
It wasn't until an hour later, when the sun was bright and Max was on the next ridge, that he began to wonder about the quiet. By this time, there should have been the sound of gunfire behind him.
He never knew that Mike had died the moment he was out of sight.
He felt naked at first without his beard.
Rubbing his fingers over his cleanly shaven face, he walked into the kitchen.
Charlie looked up from the kitchen table.
"My God," he exclaimed. "I never would've known you!"
Martha, his wife, turned from the stove. She smiled suddenly.
"You're much younger than I thought. And handsomer, too."