“But there isn’t an engine that can turn a wheel in the place. The first train comes up in the morning.”
“I might get a horse and go over to the haçienda,” Brainard suggested.
The Southerner scratched his sleepy head for a while.
“You might,” he admitted. “But that wouldn’t put you out of your trouble and might put other folks into danger. You want to lose these urgent friends of yours for good.”
“That’s so.”
“Got some nerve?”
“Enough to capture this stuff from a court and tote it ’cross country from Frisco!” He patted his valise.
“Come on, then!”
The Southerner drew on his trousers and boots. As Brainard turned impatiently toward the door, he said:
“Not that way!”