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A biker with a patch over his eye waits toward the front. Beside him, Galloping Goose John Angell wears a skeleton mask. Shifty's in the lead.
The procession roars forward in a snake formation, pairs of riders side-by-side behind the hearse. They ride 30 miles south to Harrisonville, down Highway 71 to Orient Cemetery, where eight Forasteros and Gooses are buried.
Beside Dresser's grave site, men and women pop beers and smoke, crushing their butts on the grass surrounding Dresser's plot.
Shifty scoops the first shovelful of dirt and tosses it in. Men around him take their turns, silently passing their shovels to brothers lined up behind them. After the grave is half full and Monk has taken his turn at the shovel, the sun begins shining for the first time all day.
Monk steps out from under the tent and leads Shifty a few yards away from the grave.
They stand together talking quietly, Monk leaning in close, whispering in Shifty's deformed ear. While El Forasteros and Gooses are piling flower bouquets on Dresser's grave, Shifty stares out over the other tombstones.
The crowd disbands, headed for a gathering at Sheriff's Sports Bar and Grill. After a quick drink with his friends, Monk says he has to go home to take care of Madison.
He looks worried. He says he just heard that the cops pulled over a Forastero down the road -- proof they were out watching.
"There's a warrant out for my arrest," Monk remembers, squinting up at the sky and wondering which back roads he should take home.