Long Bill's eyes glittered with greed: "Sure he will! Five thousan'—two thousan' five hundred apiece——"
Purdy fixed him with a chilling stare: "They wasn't nothin' mentioned about no even split," he reminded, "who's got the woman, you or me?"
Long Bill glared angrily: "You didn't know nothin' about the reward till I come along. An' who's got to do the dickerin'? You don't dast to show up nowheres. You'd git nabbed. They's a reward out fer you."
Purdy shrugged: "When we git the five thousan', you git five hundred. Take it or leave it. They's others can do the dickerin'."
Long Bill growled and whined, but in the end he agreed, and Purdy continued: "You listen to me. We don't want no mistakes about this here. I'll write a note to the pilgrim an' sign Tex's name to it, demandin' five thousan' fer the return of the woman. You take the note to him, an' tell him Tex is hidin' out in the bad lands, an' they ain't a show in the world to git the woman without he pays, because Tex will kill her sure as hell if he goes to gittin' any posses out. Then you fetch him over here—this place is good as any—today a week, an' we'll give him his woman."
"What if he won't come? What if he thinks we're double-crossin' him?"
Purdy shrugged: "If he wants his woman bad enough, he'll come. It's his only chanct. An' here's another thing: Before you hit back acrost the river, you spread them bills around all the ranches an' on all the trails around here. They ain't no one else can horn in on the big reward 'cause I've got the woman, an' if the Texan should of got to shore, it's just as well to have everyone huntin' him."
"I ain't got no horse," objected the ferryman.
"Drift down the river till you come to a coulee with two rock pinnacles on the left hand side. Go up it till you come to a brush corral, there's two horses in there, an' a saddle an' bridle is cached in a mud crack on the west side. Saddle up one of 'em, an' be sure you put him back or Cass Grimshaw'll make coyote bait out of you."
As Purdy watched Long Bill disappear down the river, he rolled a cigarette: "If I c'n double-cross the pilgrim, I will," he muttered, "if I can't, back she goes to him. Five thousan' is a higher price than I'll pay fer luxeries like women. Anyhow there's McWhorter's gal left fer that. An' seein' there ain't no one else in on this but me, I'll just duck the hang-out, an' take her over to Cinnabar Joe's. Him an' his woman'll keep her safe—or he'll do time. Them's the only kind of friends that's worth a damn—the ones you've got somethin' on." And having thus unburdened himself he proceeded leisurely toward the scrub.