Luke Jensen, Bounty Hunter by William W. Johnstone

his hat and scrubbed a weary hand over his face. “Hobie, are you familiar with the concept of negative numbers in mathematics?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œNever mind. Having you come with me wouldn’t be like adding one to my side of the odds. I’d have to be looking out for you all the time, and I couldn’t give all my attention to the job. That would actually subtract from my side and give Kelly and Dog Eater even more of an advantage over me. Do you understand?”
    â€œWell . . . maybe,” Hobie said grudgingly. “I’ve never been that good at ciphering.”
    â€œAnd one more thing. Bounty hunting isn’t a game. It’s a dirty, deadly, ugly business, and a lot of men get killed doing it. Men who are a lot tougher and more experienced than you are. Do you have a family?”
    Hobie shook his head. “No, sir, not really. My folks are dead, and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I reckon Mr. Dunbar and his brother the marshal are sort of like my adopted uncles.”
    â€œHow about a sweetheart?”
    Even in the dim light of dawn, Luke could see the blush that spread over Hobie’s face as the young man said, “I’ve sort of been courtin’ Betsy Jane Hendricks.”
    â€œThen Betsy Jane would probably cry over your body, and I suspect the Dunbar brothers would mourn your loss, too. You don’t want that on your conscience, Hobie.”
    â€œNo, I wouldn’t, but . . . the reward’s five thousand dollars, Mr. Jensen!”
    Luke took the shovel off his horse and tossed it to Hobie, who caught it awkwardly.
    â€œGet down and start digging,” Luke told the young man. “We’ll see if you still feel the same way when we get through.”
    Â 
    Â 
    The sun was a couple hand widths above the eastern horizon when they finished burying Nelse Anderson and his wife Martha. Luke and Hobie had taken turns digging until they had two graves ready on top of a small hill a short distance north-east of the house and the barn.
    Hobie hadn’t wanted to go into the house, but Luke had insisted. He wanted the young man to see everything Gunner Kelly and Dog Eater had left behind them. The ruins of the house were still too hot to walk on in places, so Luke and Hobie had to be careful, but they were able to recover the remains of Mrs. Anderson.
    Then Hobie had stumbled behind a bush, fallen to his knees, and thrown up for a long time. His position was almost one of reverence, but the sounds coming from him were a long way from being prayers.
    Sweat pasted Hobie’s shirt to his torso by the time they were finished covering the graves. He leaned on the shovel, took off his hat, and sleeved moisture from his face. Turning his head to watch in disbelief as Luke started walking back toward the horses, he called out, “Wait a minute. Aren’t you gonna say something over them?”
    Luke paused and looked back. “They’ve both been dead for hours. If there’s an afterlife, they’re already where they’re going to wind up. Nothing we say now can make any difference.”
    â€œIf you believe that, why’d we go to the trouble of buryin’ ’em? Why not just leave their bodies to be torn apart by coyotes and picked over by buzzards?”
    â€œA simple matter of respect and dignity,” Luke said. “And wherever they are, I think they’ll rest easier knowing that didn’t happen to what they left behind.” He gestured toward the graves. “But if you want to say something, go right ahead. Don’t let me stop you.”
    Luke heard Hobie mutter something behind him as he turned away again. A moment later the young man hurried to catch up to him, carrying the shovel. “What do we do now?”
    â€œYou go back to Rio Rojo,” Luke said. “I pick up the trail and go after Kelly and Dog Eater.”
    â€œHow can you catch them now? They’re bound to be a long