“Didn’t you ask ’em?”
“Dozens of times. The one who drove the horse wouldn’t tell me anything. He kept singing something about being buried on the lone prairie.”
Mrs. Snow laughed and patted Jane on the shoulder.
“You brace up, honey. You’re danged lucky to ride all the way from Gunsight with a mournful cowpuncher, if you only knowed it. You snap into a nightgown and pile into my bed, and I’ll bet you’ll feel better. We’re common folks here at the Half-Moon, and, outside of havin’ an imported cook, we don’t put on much dog.”
“I suppose,” said Jane softly, “I should be thankful that I am here with you.”
“Yes, and you don’t know half of it, little lady.”
Hashknife and Sleepy took the horse and buggy back to Caldwell, and tied the horse to the rack beside the livery-stable. No one saw them come, and no one saw them leave, except one or two dogs, which barked sleepily.
They rode back to the Tombstone ranch, and stabled their horses just as the first light of dawn showed over the eastern hills.
They stopped in the porch of the ranchhouse as the sound of galloping horses came to their ears, and saw two riders swing around the bend, riding swiftly toward Caldwell. One rider was a little in the rear, and in the dim light he seemed to be a trifle unsteady in his saddle.