“Was there no conviction—no sentence?” Shefford felt a curious eagerness.
“Naw,” he snorted. “That court might have saved its breath.”
“I suppose. Well, Joe, between you and me, as old friends now, that trial established one fact, even if it couldn't be proved.... Those women are sealed wives.”
Joe had no reply for that. He looked gloomy, and there was a stern line in his lips. To-day he seemed more like a Mormon.
“Judge Stone knew that as well as I knew,” went on Shefford. “Any man of penetration could have seen it. What an ordeal that was for good women to go through! I know they're good. And there they were swearing to—”
“Didn't it make me sick?” interrupted Joe in a kind of growl. “Reckon it made Judge Stone sick, too. After Mary went under he conducted that trial like a man cuttin' out steers at a round-up. He wanted to get it over. He never forced any question.... Bad job to ride down Stonebridge way! It's out of creation. There's only six men in the party, with a poor lot of horses. Really, government officers or not, they're not safe. And they've taken a hunch.”
“Have they left already?” inquired Shefford.
“Were packed an hour ago. I didn't see them go, but somebody said they went. Took the trail for Bluff, which sure is the only trail they could take, unless they wanted to go to Colorado by way of Kayenta. That might have been the safest trail.”
“Joe, what might happen to them?” asked Shefford, quietly, with eyes on the Mormon.
“Aw, you know that rough trail. Bad on horses. Weathered slopes—slipping ledges—a rock might fall on you any time. Then Shadd's here with his gang. And bad Piutes.”