“I ver’ sure,” declared Jules. “She come back. Somebody make her go way, Blaze; it ees cinch. Somebody don’ want her talk at trial, but now she come back.”
“I reckon she got scared, Jules.”
“No! W’y scare? She do nothing. Somebody else scare.”
“Mebby yo’re right, Jules. But it don’t matter.”
“Mm-m-m,” grunted Jules. He had his own ideas on the matter.
Blaze trusted the little half-breed Mexican and Apache more than he trusted any other man. Jules had a queer sense of right and wrong, but it worked about the same as any other. They were seated in the shade of Mendoza’s adobe ranch-house when Blaze told him how he got out of the penitentiary and the reasons for Kendall Marsh securing his release. He did not mention the shooting in any way.
“He get you loose to help him, eh?” grunted Mendoza. “Bueno esta. Now you owe him mucho. Too damn bad, Blaze.”
“Do you think I ought to go ahead and do the job, Jules?”
“He get you loose.”
“But these were my people, Jules. Should I help to break ’em?”