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From Fly
"Lazair."
Fly
Bowers nodded. "Dead as a stone."
Madora half smiled in his beard, noticing the new, sure-of-himself tone of Bowers' voice along with the hip-cocked cavalry way he stood. He said, "Red, you might do at that…with a little seasoning."
Bowers smiled, though he was thinking: Damn, how you have to listen to old men and smile just because they are old men. As if a few more years just naturally makes them wiser. Then he said, because he had to say something, "I hope so, Mr. Madora. I do hope so." And then, remembering, Bowers said, "Where's the colonel?"
Fly
"My God-"
Fly
Bowers was saying, "This will head the report," his voice heavy with respect, "for it isn't often that a colonel dies this way."
Fly
Madora came up behind them. He glanced at Fly
"I was thinking of talking Santana into helping as far as the border…have cavalry come down to meet us there." Bowers smiled. "Hell, Joe, all the fight's out of those Mimbres. The three of us could take them up, for that matter."
"You mean the two of us."
"Two?"
"David here's talking about doing some prospecting."
Fly