"Are you going to stay here?"
"Perhaps! I don't know—I haven't made up my mind."
"Has Cartwright—"
She broke away from those entangling questions. "I must go."
"But you'll be at the place with the horses?"
"Yes."
"Then so long till the time comes. And—you're a brick, Jig!"
Once outside the jail, she set to work at once. As for getting the roan, it was the simplest thing in the world. There was no one in the stable behind the hotel, and no one to ask questions. She calmly saddled the roan, mounted him, and rode by a wider detour to the cottonwoods behind the blacksmith shop.
Her own horse was to be for Sinclair. But before she took him, she went into the hotel, and the first man she found on the veranda was Cartwright. He came to her at once, shifting away from the others.
"How are things?"