Chapter 112

“We’ve got to get Al buried soon, Georgie.”

George nodded. “Bart, this is Sharps Browne. Steve talked about him.” He turned to Sharps. “This is my husband, Bart Hall.”

Sharps touched the brim of his hat. “Hall.”

“Browne.” Bart handed Davy Crockett’s reins to Steve and dismounted.

The gray tried to sidle closer to Salida, but Sharps tightened his grip on the reins and patted the stallion’s neck to quiet him. The gray’s nostrils flared, but he settled down.

“Good boy, Twilight,” Sharps murmured. He met George’s gaze. “I reckon you should take back your mare.”

“Thank you. I don’t have the money to pay you back for her—”

“Not necessary, ma’am. She was a gift. But you can talk to the captain about it.” He glanced at Steve, who smiled and gave a small nod. “I would like my saddlebags and my rifle?”

“Sure.” George returned his rifle. “You’re a good man.”

“Pardon me, ma’am?”