“Couldn’t I want you to tell me?”
“There isn’t time now.”
“But something.”
He drew a breath and held it for the slightest pause.
“Do you happen to remember that there’s a war on, Jean?” he asked quietly. “Well, this is part of it. Even here. Just a little frontier skirmish that the history books will never write about. But one day thousands of men will be killed and cities will be blasted with what there is on this ranch. I’m trying to make sure that they’re the right men and the right cities.”
She was standing quite still, and the moonlight glossed out all the subtleties of expression so that he couldn’t be sure how much she understood or whether she understood anything.
She said in that clear steady voice of hers, “Just be careful, Simon. So you can tell me the rest.”
She took a step closer, and for an instant he felt her lips cool and tremorless against his. Then she turned away, and he turned back with her to the others and saw that Smoky’s body was already wrapped in a blanket and tied over his saddle. Jim and Elmer stepped back, and Nails led the palomino over to his own horse and bridged his stirrups. Jean Morland mounted without another word, and Hank Reefe turned to the Saint with his reins in his hand.
“Good luck.”
“You too.”