prints on the low mountain overlooking the short grass basin, four miles south of the arroyo. Early morning on, he'd twisted and turned the intriguing thought that Billy might head for the Double W. The kid was crazy enough to do it.
Since he couldn't ride two ways at once, Willie had decided to let the other two robbers go. The law, especially Pete Wilson, would want local boy Billy alive, if they had a choice, Willie knew. Maybe he was learning something about politics? He'd wire on to the border to have lookouts set up for the other two. They were likely trekking steadily south toward Mexico.
While he felt anger, mixed with some humiliationâwhat train robber ever paid the tracking sheriff a visit?âhe also had to give Billy a measure of respect for sheer audacity. On the ride up, he'd even permitted himself a wry smile or two over the possibility of Billy's direction.
"All right, let's go flush him out," Willie said, chagrin coming through.
Big Eye reminded softly, "We're paid to track, not to shoot."
Willie blinked at the Yavapai, not expecting that reaction. But then he considered it. Big Eye was entirely right. It was his own fight, not theirs. They'd done their job and expertly. Willie said, "Come by the office in the morning. I'll have your money."
Big Eye glanced at the house thoughtfully, and then turned in the saddle to speak to the others. He rattled Yavapai. Turning back he said, "I told them to go on. I'll come with you."
Willie thought it over. The less people riding up, the less chance of anyone getting hurt. He was certain he could talk the kidâif he was still thereâinto giving up. But if Big Eye came along, it might go another way. The Indian might set off a shooting.
"Thanks, Big Eye," said Willie appreciatively, "but I've decided I'd rather do it alone. It's safer for both of us." He reined around and trotted Almanac toward the house.
The Yavapais lingered a moment, and then rode off.
Soon Duke and Cotton began to yelp.
In the kitchen Billy asked tensely, "Willie?"
Kate nodded, fear gripping her. She watched as Billy galvanized, grabbing a handful of biscuits, his hat, and his gun belt. He bounded out the back door.
Kate stayed by the table, closing her eyes. Then she took a steadying breath and walked toward the front door, hoping her face would not reveal what was in her mind.
Willie paused on the porch a moment, scanning around. He couldn't spot Billy's horse. His hand dropped to his holster, but then he decided against it. If anybody had to fire, it would be Billy.
Passing quickly through the front door, almost colliding with Kate, he asked brusquely, "Where is that idiot?"
Kate swallowed. "He's gone."
Kate was pale and drawn, wide-eyed. Her hands moved up in a helpless gesture, then dropped to her sides again.
Willie stared at his young wife, not quite believing her, then moved cautiously by her into the kitchen. Billy's half-eaten meal was scattered across the plate; the chair was pulled away from the table. He looked at the back door.
Outside, a bucket toppled and rolled.
Willie stepped to the lamp and blew it out, debating about his gun. Finally he pulled it, but he kept it down by his thigh as he slipped out the door, trying to adjust his eyes.
From the porch he saw Billy's form in the cul-de-sac by the corral fence. His horse was saddled, but he hadn't mounted. Willie saw the black barrel of Billy's drawn .44 in the moonlight. The boy's face was a blur, barely visible.
Willie had an overwhelming desire to run up to him, pound his back, punch his shoulder, yell at him. But he moved slowly down the steps, gun aimed to the dirt.
Billy said, "I told Kate you'd look the other way. You fooled me, Willie."
Yes, it was that old familiar voice that Willie heard. But taut now, strained and dry.
Heart pounding, Willie ordered, "Drop it, Billy."
It didn't seem possible they were looking at each other across guns. Willie moved a step at a time, slow but steady,
Since he couldn't ride two ways at once, Willie had decided to let the other two robbers go. The law, especially Pete Wilson, would want local boy Billy alive, if they had a choice, Willie knew. Maybe he was learning something about politics? He'd wire on to the border to have lookouts set up for the other two. They were likely trekking steadily south toward Mexico.
While he felt anger, mixed with some humiliationâwhat train robber ever paid the tracking sheriff a visit?âhe also had to give Billy a measure of respect for sheer audacity. On the ride up, he'd even permitted himself a wry smile or two over the possibility of Billy's direction.
"All right, let's go flush him out," Willie said, chagrin coming through.
Big Eye reminded softly, "We're paid to track, not to shoot."
Willie blinked at the Yavapai, not expecting that reaction. But then he considered it. Big Eye was entirely right. It was his own fight, not theirs. They'd done their job and expertly. Willie said, "Come by the office in the morning. I'll have your money."
Big Eye glanced at the house thoughtfully, and then turned in the saddle to speak to the others. He rattled Yavapai. Turning back he said, "I told them to go on. I'll come with you."
Willie thought it over. The less people riding up, the less chance of anyone getting hurt. He was certain he could talk the kidâif he was still thereâinto giving up. But if Big Eye came along, it might go another way. The Indian might set off a shooting.
"Thanks, Big Eye," said Willie appreciatively, "but I've decided I'd rather do it alone. It's safer for both of us." He reined around and trotted Almanac toward the house.
The Yavapais lingered a moment, and then rode off.
Soon Duke and Cotton began to yelp.
In the kitchen Billy asked tensely, "Willie?"
Kate nodded, fear gripping her. She watched as Billy galvanized, grabbing a handful of biscuits, his hat, and his gun belt. He bounded out the back door.
Kate stayed by the table, closing her eyes. Then she took a steadying breath and walked toward the front door, hoping her face would not reveal what was in her mind.
Willie paused on the porch a moment, scanning around. He couldn't spot Billy's horse. His hand dropped to his holster, but then he decided against it. If anybody had to fire, it would be Billy.
Passing quickly through the front door, almost colliding with Kate, he asked brusquely, "Where is that idiot?"
Kate swallowed. "He's gone."
Kate was pale and drawn, wide-eyed. Her hands moved up in a helpless gesture, then dropped to her sides again.
Willie stared at his young wife, not quite believing her, then moved cautiously by her into the kitchen. Billy's half-eaten meal was scattered across the plate; the chair was pulled away from the table. He looked at the back door.
Outside, a bucket toppled and rolled.
Willie stepped to the lamp and blew it out, debating about his gun. Finally he pulled it, but he kept it down by his thigh as he slipped out the door, trying to adjust his eyes.
From the porch he saw Billy's form in the cul-de-sac by the corral fence. His horse was saddled, but he hadn't mounted. Willie saw the black barrel of Billy's drawn .44 in the moonlight. The boy's face was a blur, barely visible.
Willie had an overwhelming desire to run up to him, pound his back, punch his shoulder, yell at him. But he moved slowly down the steps, gun aimed to the dirt.
Billy said, "I told Kate you'd look the other way. You fooled me, Willie."
Yes, it was that old familiar voice that Willie heard. But taut now, strained and dry.
Heart pounding, Willie ordered, "Drop it, Billy."
It didn't seem possible they were looking at each other across guns. Willie moved a step at a time, slow but steady,
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