Gabriel had covered Farias, and bent over him in prayer again.
Manuel appeared on the stair, stopping about midway. "Don Raul," he said. "Did you call me?"
"Pedro has killed Farias. Have three horses saddled, Manuel. I'll go with Luis and see if we can get Pedro. You ride to Colima and get the rurales. Can you show me the way, Luis?"
Luis tapped his thigh where he had worn his gun on trips with his father. "My father," he began, but his voice broke. He walked down a hall to his own room, where he snatched up his revolver, holster and belt. He returned, strapping them on, trembling.
"Don't go, Raul," said Gabriel, coming out on the stair. "Let the law take care of Pedro Chávez."
Raul was at the bottom of the stair.
"The rurales can have Pedro. I won't stop them. Pedro's not at Mountain Rancheria. We can get there before he does, if we move fast. We'll have a chance to get his guns. Let's at least try to get them. Come on, Luis. Manuel, look after the horses! Get water bags. I'll see to the food. We may be able to get to Rancheria within five days."
But it was a hard push, through bad weather, and it took six days to get there and four to come back, ten days of rough riding, wet weather, poor food and little rest. They found Pedro's hut, his woman and guns. Luis had to cover her with his revolver while Raul removed the guns and ammunition, stuffing them into long grain sacks. They rode off in a hailstorm that gradually became a torrential rain. Making a cairn, in the downpour, they cached the guns and ammunition. Freezing cold, they mounted and rode on, hoping to reach a cabin before night.
When they returned to Petaca, through driving mist, Raul was astonished to see rurales in front of Father Gabriel's room. Dirty, fagged and sore, he dismounted and gave his reins to Luis, saying: "I hope this means they've got him."
A stranger opened the door, and Raul found Gabriel in bed, covered with serapes.