“What do you want to go East for?” he demanded.
“Chicago’s the only place I’ve got anybody I could go to,” she said. “But that ain’t the reason,” she added. “I want to get as far as I can, ’count of Bunchy.”
She looked back at the group gathering at the station to see the train come in.
“You better get the ticket just to Albuquerque,” she said. “Somebody might try to follow me up.”
“Albuquerque nothing,” he said roughly. “I’ll buy you your ticket right through—to Chicago.” He went toward her. “Don’t go—don’t go!” he said.
She looked at him, intently, as if she were trying to fathom what he would have said. But in that intentness of her look, he saw only her memory of the night before. He drew sharply back, and turned away. “I hate for you to go ’way off there alone,” he mumbled.
Across the desert, clear against the dusk of the mountains, a red eye came toward them. She saw it.
“Oh quick,” she said. “There’s the train. Get it just to Albuquerque. I’ll be all right.”