No posse would
ride farther south than Showdown, and with Pete afoot at Flores's
rancho, Malvey would be free to follow his own will, either to Blake's
ranch or farther south and across the border. Whether Pete returned to
Showdown or not was none of Malvey's affair. To get away with the
horse might require some scheming. Malvey made no further attempt to
draw Pete out--but rode on in silence.
They came upon the canon suddenly, so suddenly that Pete's horse shied
and circled. Malvey, leading, put his own pony down a steep and
winding trail. Pete followed, fixing his eyes on a far green spot at
the bottom of the canon, and the thin thread of smoke above the trees
that told of a habitation.
At a bend in the trail, Malvey turned in the saddle: "We'll bush down
here. Friends of mine."
Pete nodded.
They watered their horses at the thin trickle of water in the canon-bed
and then rode slowly past a weirdly fenced field. Presently they came
to a rude adobe stable and scrub-cedar corral. A few yards beyond, and
hidden by the bushes, was the house. A pock-marked Mexican greeted
Malvey gruffly.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262