19th Century
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?
