Melissy’s gaze was turned to the dust whirl that advanced up the road that ran round the corral. “That doesn’t prove anything, Alan. Everybody 88 knows José. He’s lived all over Arizona—at Tucson and Tombstone and Douglas.”
“That’s right too,” the lad admitted.
The riders in advance of the dust cloud resolved themselves into the persons of her father and Norris. Her incautious admission was already troubling her.
“But I’m sure you’re right. No hold-up with any sense would stay around here and wait to be caught. He’s probably gone up into the Galiuros to hide.”
“Unless he’s cached the gold and is trying to throw off suspicion.”
The girl had moved forward to the end of the house with Alan to meet her father. At that instant, by the ironic humor of chance, her glance fell upon a certain improvised wash-stand covered with oilcloth. She shook her head decisively. “No, he won’t risk waiting to do that. He’ll make sure of his escape first.”
“I reckon.”
“Have you heard, Daddy?” Melissy called out eagerly. She knew she must play the part expected of her, that of a young girl much interested in this adventure which had occurred in the community.
He nodded grimly, swinging from the saddle. She observed with surprise that his eye did not meet hers. This was not like him.
“What do you think?”