“I’ll have to hold him, Miss Innes,” came the negro voice through the screen door. “He’ll get all tangled up in the rope. The winds got him all skittish.”
She came out, rubbing her eyes; her khaki suit creased where she had lain in it. She asked him if he had seen her brother.
Sam, whom sleep had been occupying, answered evasively. “I’m not looking for him yet-a-way, Miss Innes! The river’s cuttin’ back, mighty fas’, they say. A third of a mile in twenty-fo’ hours. If it keeps up that-away, it’ll be on us right soon. Mr. Hardin he’s not a-comin’ back so long’s he’s got that there river to fight.”
“I’m going after him. He’s got to stop for me. Don’t tell any one, Sam, where I’ve gone.”
“You oughtn’t to be goin’ alone, Miss Innes,” he called after her loping horse. “The new boss wouldn’t like it. He’s mighty careful about womenfolk!”
She sent a mocking grimace over her shoulder. “Pff!”
Sam grinned. “If she ain’t jes’ the spit of her brother!” His pace lagged. It had been a hard night’s work!
Innes’ horse loped through the silent streets.
“I’ll run past the levee; perhaps Tom has come back.” It occurred to her that there might be a message at the hotel. She pulled on her left rein, and swept past the deserted adobe.
The gorge of the New River was but a rod or so now from the west side. Sam was right. If the scouring out of the channel could not be kept to the farther bank, the towns must go. The levee wouldn’t help them then.