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The time to live and the place to die. That’s all any man gets. No more, no less - Hank Worden as Parson in The Alamo

Lucas was sipping his coffee and having some breakfast when he saw Sheriff Ryan walk in. –Morning Ryan, he said and looked at his friend. Ever since the gunfight they had witnessed, Ryan had been more absent-minded than usual. What happened with Maddox, and the whole ordeal had really got to him, Lucas thought as the sheriff sat down in front of him.  

The sheriff took a seat, and thanked Rosanna who served him a drink. The Mexican girl had decided to stay in Sabbath for now. For a moment, Ryan remembered Mayer. He did not reckon they would ever see him again.

-Look what the mail brought in, he said and handed Lucas the newspaper.

-Well who would have guessed! We made Capital State news, Lucas said smiling. –And it looks like Trinity claimed the bounty, too.

The negro was a rich man by now, and lucky to be alive.

The sheriff did not answer. Instead, he looked out the window, at the people walking on the street. Soon enough, all that had happened would be nothing but a memory. Sabbath was back to normal. A quiet town. A peaceful town…

A town under the protection of Mr. Bronson…

Vincent Bronson was smoking his cigar. He reckoned he had thought of everything. Tied all the knots. He received confirmation that Trinity W. King had collected the bounty. The dead had been buried, and Ryan and the Registrar Dusaine had done all the papers. No one who knew what had happened would talk.

Maddox was gone. He had left with Laura Price. Maybe to San Acoma. Who knows. Bronson knew he would not be coming back. The former lawman was a man of his word.

-Crowe!, he shouted to his trusted cowboy. –Go get Vern, Sinta and the rest. Today our new foreman will start work. So I pught to properly introduce him.

Jack Dekker was dead. That was the official story, and no one would doubt that. His grave was next to Choctaw´s and Alacran´s.

The cowboys would quickly learn to call Bronson´s new foreman by his real name. Ulrich Scheiwhoger. Behind his back, they had started calling him “Holeface”. But no one should call him Jack.