Josiah Hode, a skinny, red-haired youth in dark calico shirt and workman's trousers, a big hunting knife at his waist, pushed the door open. Hodge's orphaned son.
This is what my Andy and Phil would have grown to look like. The thought hurt Raoul because Andy and Phil were dead and because he had never really loved them.
"What is it, Josiah?"
"Someone rode up to Miz Hale's door and banged on it. I snuck right up to the fence. When they came out I saw it was that Woodrow kid that lives with her. And she got out her own horse and rode toward town with him."
"Did you follow them?"
"Long enough to see that they went up to old Mr. de Marion's place."
"He's there!" Raoul said. He felt as if he were out hunting on a frosty morning and had just sighted a buck with spreading antlers. He clenched his fist and brought it down on his desk, hard. He opened the drawer again, took out a small bag of coins and slammed the drawer shut.
He counted out nine Spanish dollars. "Josiah, you divide these between the three of you for keeping good watch." He dropped a tenth piece of eight into the boy's cupped hands. "That's for you, for bringing me the good news."
Josiah grinned, all teeth. "Thanks a heap, Mr. de Marion."
"Armand, I want about twenty men. Go round them up. Have them meet me at the trading post gate."