King Edward looked over his shoulder. Once. Then again.

‘What is it, lad?’

‘Someone’s followin us.’

‘How do you know?’

King Edward shrugged.

The ground was wet. Nothing would raise dust here. He looked back and saw nothing. But they rode a mile further and stood their horses.

A rider came towards the patrol across the plain. The patrol took cover in a stand of willows. Still the rider came.

At three hundred yards Nixon saw the roan mare and then the shape of the rider’s face. He spoke to his men.

‘Ready your arms.’

The rider met the patrol. The white men of the patrol with guns cocked and levelled at the rider’s head, the black boy with a hunting knife raised.

‘I want to talk to you, Sergeant.’

‘What will we talk about?’

‘I can do something for you.’

‘I can’t do anything for you, but maybe suggest you ride home and get as drunk as you can on the money you’ve stolen before the day comes there’s a warrant on you, which is what you’ll probably do anyway.’

‘Truly, I can help you.’

‘The reason I didn’t shoot you off your horse is that for once you are not riding with men I have a warrant to arrest.’

‘The same reason I didn’t shoot you off yours. But I can do something for you.’

‘Why should I not cuff you, Tom?’

‘Because I will take you to them.’

‘Why?’

‘For a pardon.’

‘And if there is no pardon?’

‘Then arrest me. I can’t ride back now. I’ve seen the posters everywhere. I’m sick of ridin toward my death.’

The Skillington boy spat.

‘I don’t trust him, Sarge. He could just as easy be leadin us into a ravine to be picked off.’

But with the fire and rain the trail had gone cold.

‘Do you know what Jim Kenniff is?’ said Tom.

‘We know alright,’ said the Skillington boy.

‘Do you know how much pursuing and threatening with posters at every railway station and post office in the country he will take before nothing on earth will frighten him? I’ve seen it in his eyes. He’s near to going to war against the law of this country, Sergeant. I don’t want that, for many reasons of my own. So let me take you to him.’

The Skillington boy spoke.

‘I don’t trust you, Tom Lawton.’

Tom nodded. He took a twist of tobacco from his wallet and bit off the end. ‘You don’t trust me. I will tell you the truth. I know where Jim Kenniff is. I will take you to him. And like you say, that may well be to take you to your death. More than that I cannot promise or say. But I have not been sent by them.’ He looked away at the silvering sky. ‘And I know all that he’s done. I’m the only one.’

‘There’s sheltering rocks a half-mile from here,’ said Nixon. ‘We ride to there and camp.’

Tom nodded.

‘But there is one thing, Sergeant. One thing you must promise me.’

‘I owe you nothing.’

‘Even so. You must promise me that if you catch them up, you’ll shoot them dead. I’ve seen the thing this government calls justice. Too many times and too near. You promise me you won’t take them in. You’ll kill them like a man.’

Each man fixed the other’s eyes.

They rode to the rocks and unsaddled their horses.