Skinny drove along the road on his way back to the Hotel, but something told him not to abandon Mouse just yet. He wanted Conner out of the way but felt he would be helpful. He turned off towards the Visitors Center.

Conner sat quietly for a while, but when Skinny turned the car off the main road, he spoke up. "This isn't the way back," he said.

Skinny looked in the rearview mirror and said, "Shut the fuck up." Snow began to fall thickly with small flakes. He turned on his headlights and wipers.

He pulled up to the center's entrance and stopped the car to look at the building they had burned. He smiled at his work and turned the car into a side parking lot now almost covered by weeds and small trees. A shower house stood alone at one end of the complex. Thick brakes and vines found their way inside the building, breaking through the windows, and looked almost as if they were trying to lift the building off its foundations. He skidded to a stop and threw open the door and got out and lighted a cigarette, and then opened the back door and reached in and pulled Conner out onto his feet.

"Oh thanks, Skinny, but I don't have to go just yet," he said.

"Asshole." Skinny forced him inside and using a rope from his trunk, tied him to the door passing the rope through the broken window. He tied him in such a way that little room was left to allow Conner to sit down.

"I'll be back." And he got in the car and started it up.

"You won't find him there," Conner yelled after him. Skinny looked over his shoulder at the vague prediction and drove away.

The snow had stopped leaving a thin blanket on the ground. He pulled up to the Bug, got out of his car, looked inside, saw that they had ransacked it and then he headed up the path to where he had sent Mouse.

It was quiet.

"Fucking asshole better not be dead," but he knew what to expect even before he said it. He came out to the open space and saw the fire had been put out and as he inspected it he saw blood under the snow, but no signs of Mouse. He searched the site, walked around its parameters, and stopped where it sloped off. And saw him.

He climbed down the little gully and saw Mouse's huge boot sticking up from under the snowy leaves.

Skinny usually looked at life with a detached disinterest, but something made him take a closer look at Mouse's body. He brushed away foliage.

"Fuck," he yelled. "You goddamn moron. You let that twerp get the better of you." He could not imagine how it happened and felt a little bit of a loss for the man who had served him well for so many years.

Mouse had just strangled one of the longhaired pigs with his bare hands outside a bar in Reno when they first met. The other two bikers arrived too late to save their friend, but they were going to make Mouse pay. They circled him, sizing him up, probably surprised at his agility for such a big man. It's what their friend should have done, but it was too late for him.

As they circled, trying to distract him, one of the thugs threw a chain around Mouse's neck and pulled him to the ground. The other took advantage of his prone position and kicked him in the stomach, and in his crotch – hard. Mouse managed to free himself from the chain. He would have gotten up too, given a chance. Blood oozed into his eyes from a gash on his forehead. He wiped it away and that is when the chain flew across his head. Mouse fell again, this time for good.

Normally, Skinny would not involve himself in other people's disputes. Maybe they had a good reason for pummeling him, but Skinny had seen the big man before. He caught him peeking in on one of the girls having sex with her John in the shed behind the train-yard fence. He sensed usefulness in this giant man, whom he would later name Mouse, and decided to wait and not stick him on the spot.

Skinny quietly approached the fight, pulled out his 6-inch bone-handled stiletto, and threw it at the guy with the chain, and it stuck deep in his neck. That was easy. Then the other one wanted some, too. He came at Skinny, either unafraid or stupid, it made no difference to Skinny. As he stooped to pick up the chain, Skinny rushed over, stepped on it, and kicked his right boot up into the biker's jaw. With a quick yelp, blood poured from his mouth, but he quickly got to his feet and braced himself against the alley wall. He lunged at Skinny, dragging the chain behind and throwing it in his right hand. But Skinny never lost a fight. He ducked under the sweeping chain and moved to within a foot of his opponent and shoved the stiletto into the underside of his mouth and deep into his skull and held it there until his victim dropped.

Skinny took Mouse back to his apartment, cleaned him up, fed him, and clothed him. Mouse was better off than he had been for a while and pledged fealty to his new boss. Within a year, Skinny bought Arapaho and set up shop.

But that was then and now the big fuck was dead.

Skinny let his emotions take over and kicked the snow around the fire. He searched for clues. What did CJ and Harry do next? Where did they go? The cold air froze the wet hair around his mouth. He stopped to run his knuckle through it and felt the ice-covered mustache crackle. He looked over at the posts marking the path into the mountain.

"That's where they went," he said. "Bet my bottom dollar." Then he yelled as loud as he could, "I'll get you, you assholes," and he took off back to the Brougham drove to fetch Conner, and returned to the hotel.