Sam Flintlock said. “You mean the man who hired these two,” Jamie McPhee said, nodding to the bodies that lay on the ground beside the graves he and Flintlock had almost finished. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. How come he wants you dead so badly?” “The whole town of Open Sky wants me dead,” McPhee said. “When a man goes to the trouble and expense of hiring two killers, he particularly wants you dead.” “Who could he be?” McPhee said. “See, you don’t know your enemies.” “Do you, Sam?” Flintlock grinned and shook his head. “Hell, no, I don’t,” he said. “That is, if you leave out everybody in Open Sky.” A lantern flickered between the open graves and spread a strange amber light. Night birds pecked at the first stars and heat lightning flashed to the north over distant mountains. The air smelled of burning lamp oil, damp earth and dead men. After Tate and Litton were in their graves and covered with earth, McPhee said, “Have you anything to say?” “No.
