She joined them as quietly as that.
That she intended to remain with them became evident after Jay Oliver had prepared her breakfast and then cleaned and stowed away the gear for a second time that morning. She ate everything he cooked, not speaking to either of them, but watching Oliver's movements with a curious intent interest. She had pointed out what to use for the fire that would not give off a betraying smoke, and then sat down cross-legged, feet tucked up beneath her, to let him feed her. Sally had not understated her hunger.
Gary was on the hill position as lookout.
In less than an hour they broke camp and once again locked the rear doors of the mail truck. Oliver climbed into the cab and took his place behind the wheel, resting the rifle on the edge of the seat near his left leg. He started the motor. Sally followed him into the truck then, leaping in with a quick movement to sit next to him, still without a word. Oliver turned to look at her, studied her face for an instant and then beat a short, sharp note on the horn.
Gary left his position and came running down the incline to the truck. He stopped, staring at Sally, one foot lifted to climb in.
“Company,” he said, looking at her thin body. His voice did not give evidence of being surprised.
“Seems that way.” Oliver was grinning in satisfaction.
“Your company,” Gary persisted.
“Been on a fifty-fifty basis so far,” Oliver answered. “We get along better as a team.”
Gary hesitated but a second longer and then climbed into the cab and slammed the door. “Suits me.” He shifted the weight of the rifle from his shoulder, resting the butt on the floorboards. “Suits me.”