"I want him locked up for the night. And a doctor had better look at him. We'll use the town jail, Marshal."
"You'll use it. You and Hobson both."
"Maybe you haven't got the straight of it," Tesno said. "I tried to back off. Every man here witnessed it."
Madrid's hand made a snake-strike at his hip and came up with his revolver. He gestured toward the door with it and said, "Get moving, cowboy."
The cigar had gone out, and Tesno relighted it. Madrid aimed the gun at Tesno's feet. "Walk to jail or go there crippled. It makes no difference to me."
Tesno headed for the door, swaggering a little, puffing the cigar. As he passed Madrid, he said, "This is the second mistake you've made today, Marshal."
The marshal's office was in a squat log building at the foot of the street. Tesno entered it first. Madrid followed and turned up a low-burning lamp in a wall bracket. The jail was a single cell at the rear of the office. Its iron-bound wooden door stood open. Tesno stopped beside a flat-top desk in the center of the room. The men from the saloon lugged Hobson past him and deposited him on a bunk in the cell. He was still out cold.
"He needs a doctor," Tesno said.
Madrid still held the revolver. He made no reply except to gesture toward the cell with it. Tesno stepped inside the cell and pulled the door shut behind him. He peered out through the small barred window in the door.
Madrid waved the men who had carried Hobson to one side. "Step back from the door," he said to Tesno.