A random bullet fired from one of the departing outlaws, drew a bead in Phineas’ direction. Its path was straight but not enough to strike Phineas in a vital area. The bullet would leave a small scar as it tore through his flesh along his left jawline. The bone was enough to deflect the projectile, up and away into the wooden structure of the car. Finney’s head snapped away from the impact in reaction. He quickly felt warm blood oozing from the slight laceration along the left side of his face, as it trickled down his neck. He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and pressed it against the wound. He dropped back into the seat behind him. He looked up at Mistikhoman. He tried to smile at the Cree man, but could only muster a placid look; signifying relief the attack was finally over.

Billy helped Taylor with Bobby in the Express car below. It appeared Sergio’s former partner had passed and there would be nothing to save the man. Billy stepped over the corpse of the Navajo man, Mistikhoman killed and walked into the passenger car. He saw the native Cree man in the aisle and Finney sitting in one of the seats holding a rag up to his face.

“What happen’ to you, kid?” Billy asked Finny.

Finny slowly turned his head to the side, recognizing Bill Kingsley. He sort of nodded to the man, struggling to get out a word. “Got hit,” he mumbled.

“Anything serious?”

“No,” Finney stated as he shook his head slowly from side to side.

“Did you kill anyone else?” Billy asked him as he took a seat behind and to the side of him.

Finney nodded his head up and down. [i]“yes”[/i] The young man wasn’t happy about that and knew he needed to see a priest when they arrived in Odessa. His sins were egregious, and they troubled him desperately. He had killed two men. Maybe the law in the west would try to put him in jail?

“Don’t fret, kid. You make your peace with lord and you’ll be fine. Get a nice trophy out of it too.” Billy patted the kid from Boston on the shoulder, giving him a smile. Billy knew Phineas O'Connel would be fine. He just needed to keep an eye on him. "Why don't you pull out your scribblin' pad and write yo' story?