“Certainly. What an odd thing for you to do, dear. But also what a loyal thing.”
He rode closer, found her hand, and held it until a large clump of greasewood forced their horses apart, and the combined length of their arms could not bridge it. Manzanita laughed.
“Separated already!” she cried merrily, her bubbling youth refusing to harbor downcast spirits in the face of their predicament.
“Wing o’ the Crow says Blacky Silk is a villain, anyway,” she complacently observed as they rode together again, holding hands once more.
“That makes no difference. He’s innocent of this——”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, so far as we know he’s innocent, at any rate.”
“It seems that the sheriff didn’t arrest him, anyway,” she added. “No, we’ll not worry about Blacky Silk, Falcon. He owes me a little discomfort, I think. We’ll not worry about anybody or anything. We’ll just get clear of this vicinity for a time, and give folks a chance to cool off. Meantime we’ll look the situation over and find out how best to prove your and Halfaman’s innocence.”
“Did you expect Blacky Silk to be arrested?”
“I did—afterward. But, really, when I wrote his name on the cover I had no thought of making trouble for him. I just knew something had to be written there, and, as Mart was right upon me, I scribbled what naturally was uppermost in my mind.