The first faint streaks of day were beginning to show on the horizon when Bannister reached the grand stand. He knew that inside of another half-hour the little frontier town would be blinking in the early morning sunlight that falls so brilliantly through the limpid atmosphere. If they were going to leave without fighting their way out there was no time to lose.
Ten minutes slowly ticked away.
He glanced at his watch. “Five minutes after four. I wish I had gone with Mac. He may have been recognized.”
But even as the thought flitted through his mind, the semi-darkness opened to let a figure out of it.
“All quiet along the Potomac, seh?” asked the foreman’s blithe voice. “Good. I found the boys and got them started.” He flung down a Mexican vaquero’s gaily trimmed costume.
“Get into these, seh. Denver shucked them for me. That coyote must have noticed what we wore before he slid out. Y’u can bet the orders are to watch for us as we were dressed then.”
“What are y u going to do?”
“Me? I’m scheduled to be Aaron Burr, seh. Missou swaps with me when he gets back here. They’re going to rustle us some white men’s clothes, too, but we cayn’t wear them till we get out of town on account of showing our handsome faces.”
“What about horses?”
“Denver is rustling some for us. Y’u better be scribbling your billy-doo to the girl y’u leave behind y’u, seh.”