The arrival of three men on horseback gave Jasper an opportunity to sit stop shoveling and wipe his sweaty brow. He blew a soft sigh out into the scorching August day, and leaned on the tool.

"Morning, fellers. 'Tis a hot one, eh?"

The first man affirmed him with a callous nod, while the second one hardly acknowledged he had even spoke. "We're looking for a stagecoach."

Jasper took a thoughtful glance at these three men. They looked like they meant business. "Stagecoach, eh?"

"Headed this way. May have already been here, may not have. You seen it?"

Jasper wasn't sure if it would be wise to tell the truth. Something didn't seem right. After a brief moment of consternation, he figured it was nothing to be concerned about.

"Yep, I seen it. Came by bout, oh, hour ago. Meandering along, taking its sweet time, by the looks of thing. Probably three, maybe four miles off that way," Jasper answered, pointing further west down the dusty road. A small column of smoke rose up over the other side of the hills that lay ahead.

The three men looked at each other, speaking with their eyes. Jasper continued to lean on his shovel, but now he was scanning the trio - and when he spotted the loaded holsters, his eyes grew a little wider. Still, he figured it would be best to keep his cool.

Finally, the apparent leader of the three said to Jasper, "You look like a man who can keep a secret."

Jasper nodded dumbly at the man.

"Fair enough." He reached down into his pocket, and pulled out a ten dollar bill. "Nobody knows we came this way, understand? You never saw us," he said while pushing the bill into Jasper's outstretched hand, "or the stagecoach." Jasper continued to nod as the men turned and raced off down the road.

Soon the men were almost a half-mile away, small specks melting into the horizon. Jasper wiped his brow again - the sun was relentless - and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small mirror and pointed it westward, in the direction of the men. He wiggled it casually, sending a sparkle of light towards the hills. Moments later, he watched as the column of smoke broke up, becoming a steady stream of small gray puffs. Bill got the signal. Good.

Jasper resumed patting down the dirt beside the road. Finally satisfied with the work, he stopped and pulled out a small flask from his hip holster, and took a long swig.

Two shots rang out faintly in the distance; five seconds later, a third.

Jasper placed the flask back by his side, and began digging. The first three holes had been murder on his back, but done's what needs be done, Bill had said. Bill would no doubt be arriving shortly from where he had driven the stagecoach, and with more bodies in tow. Maybe he would even help a bit with the holes.

Jasper smiled at this thought, and scooped up another pile of dust while the sun continued to beat down on the burning road.