Wallace, who had driven himself and his men until they were ready to drop, dismounted wearily at the tie rail in front of the sheriff’s office alongside Ernie See and Beal. The posse members who had borrowed guns from the sheriff’s gunrack returned them and scattered to their homes. Wallace, as soon as he was inside the door of the sheriff’s office, started the same song that Ernie had been listening to for twenty-four hours. “I can’t get over it,” Wallace said bleakly, his voice still savage. “Just because you were so knot-headed you wouldn’t look in that coffin, Beal, I’m goin’ to have to pay out a sweet piece of money.” And Beal, harried and tired, gave the same exasperated retort he had been giving all night and day. “Dammit, man. You saw the coffin! If I’m a knot head, so are you!” Ernie shucked off his shell belt and gun and said to Beal, “I’ll be back after while.” He went out, sick of Wallace’s grousing, smarting under it because he was included as a knot head, too, and tired enough to fall asleep in the street.
