Hannigan read the Law’s bloodlust in their distant, rapid trotting, in their thundering hooves. A posse on horseback, thumping the clay out of the dirt, arousing a storm of dry dust clouds, meaner than the hearts in twenty white-scalping Indians, hurrying along to prosecute the Outlaw.
The Law had spoken: “Hannigan! You drag that lootin, drunken, hog-hind of yours back to town, and we gon' l skin ya like a doe. Peel the gums from your teeth,” and the Law never buckled.
From his porch rocking chair, Hannigan surveyed the wobbly desert country, cracked and caked and scabbed with sagebrush, laying before a blameless blue horizon. In a moment, the posse - the Law - would roll over the distant hump with daggers glinting in their fists.
Hannigan grabbed the ivory handle of his Smith and Wesson revolver and slipped it from the holster.
“Well, Marshmallow,” he said and the golden retriever sleeping against Hannigan’s boots twitched one floppy ear. Suddenly his head leapt up, attuned to the thunder, and he jabbed his graying muzzle at the horizon, wet nose twitching furiously.
“You always could smell death coming.” Hannigan pushed out the revolver's cylinder and examined the six snug silver-casings refracting white sun. He turned the cylinder slowly, shaking out every other round, letting them plop and roll across his lap till only three bullets remained loaded.
“That killer in North Dakota—you bit his leg right as his hands grabbed my throat. Saved my life, you did, because you smelled death coming.”
Marshmallow’s gaze stayed on the horizon.
Hannigan spun the cylinder and randomly, without looking, thumbed it home. It snapped in place pleasurably.
“Now you listen, boy. These men, they coming to kill me fer some sinning I done. They coming to gut me like a doe. Now, I don’t want you risking yer life fer me, alright? Not like you did in North Dakota. They’ll break yer bones, kick you drunk. It’d be worse than just killing you. But, I believe in fate.”
Hannigan positioned the revolver so that the steel bead pointed between Marshmallow's folded ears. “Yer right with God, Marshmallow. This’ll either be a mercy killing or, I'll take it, you wasn't destined to die tonight. God decides fate, the omnipotent God, we just have to give God opportunities.” So Hannigan cocked the hammer and squeezed the trigger—a flat click. Marshmallow’s gaze never strayed from the growing thunder.
“Yeah, I knowed you was gonna live. Good dog.”
He spun the clip again, and again, without looking, shoved the cylinder home at random. Now he stabbed the barrel underneath his chin.
“If God shows mercy, God’ll take my soul right here, when I shoot. I don’t believe in murder, or killing meself, but if God chooses one of the three loaded chambers, then I’ll consider it fate, mercy.” His finger, shivering cold, snaked across the trigger. He depressed the hammer with his thumb.
Marshmallow suddenly looked back, brown almond eyes bouncing from Hannigan’s cheek to his chin, to the revolver stuck in his flesh. The edges Marshmallow’s nose twitched like rabbit legs; he was smelling...death.
Hannigan’s hands began to spasm, his teeth chattered. “Well! Don’t look at me, friend. I don’t want you to see me blow…”
But Marshmallow kept looking, smelling.
“Don’t look at me! Can’t you see? God’s gonna kill me today, no matter what. Death’s coming and it’s called fate.”
Marshmallow rose to all paws and dived into Hannigan’s lap. He swiped a limp tongue across the Outlaw’s cheek. Hannigan's hand quivered and lost the revolver from his; it clattered to the ground and Hannigan clenched the fur of Marshmallow’s neck, and wept into it.
“My lonely partner…” he leaned, kissed Marshmallow’s soft head; Marshmallow’s tongue lapped Hannigan’s chin. “You befriended me through all my sinning, all the way to death.”
The thunder was deafening. Hannigan glanced up and saw the posse, all silhouettes, pounding through the desert heat.
“Oh, why do the righteous befriend sinners? It makes you the more righteous for kindness, and I the more wicked for bringing the godly to die. Farewell, Marshmallow!”
Although that afternoon ended in darkness, the two friends kindled the memory of each other forever in his heart, regardless of being two eternities separated.
