Westerns
He introduced himself as Bill Bonney, but said that everyone just calls him Kid because he's only eighteen. That makes him two years older than me, but he's smooth-cheeked and lightly built and could pass for younger. I think back to the other Kid I've met—the man I killed last year. But Bill is different. I've immediately taken a liking to him.
Victorio nods. "And what will you pay for this boy's life?"
"Pay?" I ask in confusion.
"Would you pay your life for his?"
"I...I don't know," I stammer.
"Then you must decide, Busca. Ghost Moon wishes to kill the child, and you wish to spare him. Are you prepared to fight to save him?"
I stare over my fire to the west, across the desert plain I crossed today, at the barely discernable black outline of the mountains where I camped last night. The tiny flickering campfire out on the plain is the only light. Every night for the past five days I have seen this fire as darkness falls. There is probably a man sitting by it looking up at the light of my fire. Who is he?
