"What do you mean you don't believe Sheriff Reynold's story?" Flat asked Sam as the two made their way up the mountainside outside of Fox Den. The early rays of the morning sun were just beginning to peak over the horizon; it was still a bit dark for any normal hiker to be ascending such rocky terrain, but the sheriff had been clear it would be in their best interest to get out of town as soon as possible with Marshal De La Cruz's planned arrival.

"Flat," Sam answered, shaking his head, "I'm surprised you do. Prairie witches? Really?"

"He said he had no reason to make that all up! And he seemed like he believes it!"

"And I think he does," nodded Sam, "but, Flat, he also said he had been drinking alot that night before losing his arm. By his own admission he was well passed his limit. Who knows what exactly happened but what the sheriff thinks he saw may not have actually happened that way."

Flat had to give it to Sam- he was the more clever and sensible of the pair. The sheriff had made no secret that a lot of alcohol had been involved prior to his accident, and the stuff people got up to while drunk could be pretty incredible.

"Well, then..." Flat scratched the back of his head, "what...what do you think happened?"

"Beats me. Somehow he did lose his arm by the end of the night. But can't say I believe the guy robbing the bank literally has his arm."

"But the tattoo-"

"-now, like I said, it could be someone from Sheriff Reynold's past who wants to get his attention. Sheriff may be right there. He's been serving justice here a long time, made plenty of enemies. Could be someone back from his two arm days that wanted to send the sheriff a message. Or..."

"Or?"

"I mean, there's plenty of ladies named Norma out there. Could just be a coincidence. Not like a name in a heart isn't popular with lovers who want to put ink on their skin."

Flat again had nothing to say as Sam made a good point. Still, in his brief time in Fox Den he knew the sheriff to be a smart and serious strong man. Surely Reynold had thought things through and had considered Sam's theories first, yet still adamantly believed the bank robber somehow had his lost limb.

"What do you think we'll find in the caves, then, Sam?"

"Well," that question seemed to give Sam paused. "Probably cave bison, if anything at all. Nothing supernatural, certainly."

"But if we don't find anything, is Sheriff Reynold gonna let us go free? We gotta find something! At least his arm!"

"Flat, he lost his arm twenty years ago. By now, if it truly was in the caves, it's just a bunch of bones. But I can't believe something hasn't eaten it years ago and moved it..."

"So, then, you don't think we'll find anything?"

"Why would we? He thinks some 'witch" and her magical patchwork dead brother are hanging out in a cave after robbing a bank? Anyone with any sense would have high-tailed it out of town with that much money. Like I said, I don't think we'll find anyone."

"So...so the sheriff is setting us up to fail?" Flat did not like the sound of that. "But, then, what do we do, Sam? Why are we going to the caves if you know there's nothing there? Shouldn't we be getting out of Fox Den?!"

"Well, I said I didn't think we'd find anyone," clarified Sam, "but that said, the sheriff could have arrested us last night...but didn't because he said he needed us. That's gotta mean he thinks something is in the caves."

Sam paused. He was thinking, and the word 'something' had started him down a different train of thought. "It's something he personally can't get, whatever the reason, but something we can."

"Like what, Sam?"

"If I had to guess...I'd say the sheriff and robber are working together. I know, just came to me, but now makes perfect sense."

"What?!"

"Think about it- remember what Simpson said? The only person he ever knew to be as strong as that robber and able to tear bank doors off the wall was Sheriff Reynold. You know what that tells me? The robber is probably part of the Reynold family, maybe even the sheriff's brother."

"You think so?"

"Then Reynold showed up, sent Simpson away to talk to us alone so the barman wouldn't know, said he would protect us from the marshal and let us go free if we did this job for him...but was iffy about why. Came up with that witch story to seem like he was opening up to us. But he wants us in the Cheyenne Crossing Caves, and is certain something is there. You know what? Now that I talk it through, I bet for sure he's in on the robbery and his cut is hidden there!"

"His cut? Sam, that's got to be thousands of dollars!" Flat's eyes lit up at the prospect.

"Right. He thought he was being clever by not telling us the real reason we're being sent up here. I'm sure in his mind he's got it all planned out: you and I will bring what we find to him, and he knows it will be all we found and no sign of his arm or witchy friend. He also knows how much it should be so we can't take any for ourselves, and he knows we want protection from the marshal so we're bound to come back to ensure that. He'll "take the evidence" from us- in private, of course- and then keep us safe from the marshal...but only as long as we deliver the full stash of loot. Otherwise he'll turn us over or arrest us himself."

"Geez, Sam, I... hadn't thought any of this when talking to the sheriff..."

"But it makes sense, doesn't it? More so than a prairie witch?"

Flat scratched his head. "Not really..."

"Oh, come on. You still believe the prairie witch stuff? After talking this through?"

"But knowing the sheriff, that prairie witch stuff the only story that makes sense..."

Sam laughed. "Knowing the image the sheriff projects, you mean. I bet he's watching us climb the mountain right now to make sure we're following his plan. What a schemer. Well, we can scheme too."

"What do you mean, Sam?"

"Why, we'll take his deal, go to these caves, find whatever it is he wants. But once we do... we're off."

"Off?" repeated Flat.

"Back on the run. We'll wait until nightfall so it'll be harder to see us, and we'll make sure we aren't being tailed. If there's as much money as I suspect, we're gonna have a good life wherever we roam, Flat."

"Wait, but the marshal is going to be in Fox Den today! And we already had a hard enough time losing him in Kansas! With him so close there's no way we'd be able to lose him again without help and if Sheriff Reynold is after us for fleeing too we'll never get far. I thought we agreed we were done running when we came to Colorado! That we'd settle into legitimate work..."

"...and then we needed cash and stole McAffey's horses. Face it, Flat. We're criminals no matter where we go. May as well accept that. If we find what I think we're going to find you better not chicken out on me. Think of how fabulously wealthy we'll be."

Sam was always the one who knew best, reasoned Flat. Granted, it has been Sam's idea to steal the horses which had got them in their bind with the sheriff, but with the kind of money now presumed to be hidden in the Cheyenne Crossing Caves was no denying the pair could live well.

"I suppose if we are going to flee again, heading north to Nebraska wouldn't be terrible," Flat finally replied. "That kind of money could go far in Nebraska..."

Sam smirked. His friend had finally seen reason and abandoned the prairie witch nonsense. "It sure could, Flat. You could buy all the corn in Nebraska for that kind of money."

The two continued their ascent fantasizing about their financially fabulous future.