“Unaffiliated whores are also not allowed to bring their troubles into this establishment. You steal something to get even?”

Roxanne nodded.

“I got his watch,” the older one answered. “And I ain’t givin’ it back. He owes us more then that.”

I nodded. The four men walked over to us.

The guy with the beard said, “These whores with you?”

He didn’t look like he washed the beard much.

“They are,” I said.

“They don’t work here,” he said.

“No.”

“I thought whores had to work here to be in the saloon.”

“I was just discussing that with them,” I said. “They been put on notice.”

“You throwing them out?” the man said.

He was a thick fella, miner probably, had the sort of overmuscled bow in his back that pick and shovel work can give you.

“I told them I would,” I said. “If they ain’t out of here by Monday.”

“Monday?”

I smiled and nodded.

“Don’t tolerate rule-breaking,” I said.

The bearded man looked at the shotgun across my lap.

“You Hitch?” he said.

“Yes, sir, I am.”

He looked at the shotgun again.

“That an eight-gauge?” he said.

“Yes, sir, it is,” I said.

One of the other men said, “Christ. Pellets must look like billiard balls.”

“These whores got something belongs to me,” the bearded one said.

“You owe us,” the older whore said. “You owe us a lot more than we took, don’t he, Roxanne?”

Roxanne nodded silently.

“See,” the bearded one said. “See, she even admits she took something.”

“I don’t care,” I said.

“She give it back and there won’t be no trouble,” the bearded one said.

I stood up.

“Or if she don’t,” I said.