"Bring Me His Ears"

by Clarence Edward Mulford

Woodson reflected a moment. "All right; I'll come after ye in a few minutes an' ask ye ter go huntin' with me. 'Twon't be onusual if we ketch th' fever, too."

Tom nodded and went over to Cooper's wagons to pay his morning's respects, and to his chagrin found that Patience had gone for a short ride with Doctor Whiting and his friends.

"Sorry to miss her, Uncle Joe," he said. "Things are going to happen fast for me from now on. I may leave the caravan tonight. About two days' more travel and we'll be south of Bent's. Hank and I don't want to lose our merchandise, we can't take it with us, and we need to turn it into money. How much can you carry from here on?"

Uncle Joe scratched his head. "The two big wagons can take five hundred-weight more apiece, and this wagon can stand near eight hundred, seein' that it ain't carryin' much more than our personal belongings. Don't worry, Tom; if I can't handle it all, Alonzo and Enoch can take th' balance. Them greasers showing their cards?"

"It's like this: According to those Texans we met, no troops are going to meet us this trip. Their advance guard got thrashed and Armijo and the main body turned tail at Cold Spring and fled back to Santa Fe. I could go with the caravan miles farther and probably be safe; but if Pedro gets a messenger away secretly there is no telling what may happen. If I stay with the caravan and put up a fight it might end in embroiling a lot of the boys and certainly would make trouble for them if the train pushed on to Santa Fe, and it's got to push on. I won't surrender meekly. So, you see, I'll have to strike out."

Uncle Joe nodded. "If it wasn't for Patience, and my brother in Santa Fe, I'd strike out with you. Goin' to Bent's?"

"Bent's nothing!" retorted Tom. "I'm going to Santa Fe, but I'm going a way of my own."

"It's suicide, Tom," warned his friend. "Better let me take in your stuff, an' meet us here on the way back. Patience won't spoil; an' when she learns how much you're wanted by Armijo she'll worry herself sick if she knows you are in th' city. Don't you do it!"

Tom scowled at a break in the hills and in his mind's eye he could see her riding gaily with his tenderfoot rivals. "Reckon she won't fall away," he growled. "Anyhow, there's no telling; an' there's no reason why she should know anything. I told her I was goin' to Santa Fe, an' I'm going!"

Uncle Joe was about to retort but thought better of it and smiled instead. "Oh, these jealous lovers!" he chuckled. "Blind as bats! Who do you know there, in case I want to get word to you?"