"Not rope better."
"What?" said Quartel.
"Nothing," said Crawford, sitting up to pull on his boots. "How about Tarant?"
"He was involved all right," said Quartel. "He knew Rockland had that section of the map, and allowed Huerta to stay at the Big O, undoubtedly having made some deal with him to split the money when they got it. Since it was Huerta that murdered Rockland, we might be able to nab Tarant as an accessory."
With a weary breath, Crawford rose. "We can reach Del's from here in a couple of hours. He needs tending to, and that old Chihuahua cart of his will be better than walking back."
Quartel got up and turned to climb the bank toward the brush. Merida started after him, but Crawford caught her arm.
"Out there in the thickets," he said. "I didn't quite get it. You were all mixed up. Something about not knowing what you'd wanted all your life, and knowing now."
"Maybe seeing those chests of gunpowder made me realize it fully," she said. "It could be symbolical, in a way, of money. You seek it all your life, and when you finally get it, you realize it isn't what you want, after all."
"What do you want?"
"Don't you know?"