They hadn't, though, and that was that. Looking around, Goodnight found something surprising--a small rag doll, such as a little girl might have. Mox Mox must have had captives and was probably going to indulge in his favorite pastime. But Call had killed him in time, and had probably taken the children to safety.
Goodnight debated going to look for Captain Call. What John Wesley Hardin had to say about the abilities of the Garza boy weighed on his mind. But after a time, he decided to let it be. Mox Mox, not Joey Garza, had burned his cowhands. He himself was not a manhunter, and he had a ranch to run. Woodrow Call was the manhunter. He had accepted the job; let him do it. If he couldn't, some posse would, eventually.
Besides, Goodnight had been brooding during the whole ride about the insolence of Muley, his ranch cook. He had decided to go home and fire the man, even if it did mean a trip to Amarillo and an irksome search.
Goodnight didn't like leaving men unburied.
That had never been his practice, unless the fight was so hot that he couldn't afford to stop and attend to the civilities. He buried the scraps of Mox Mox. The meanness was gone now, and just bones and flesh remained. Goodnight unstrapped his little shovel and did the same for the six dead men.
Then he turned back north, toward the Quitaque. It was time to hang up the rifle.
The manburner was dead.
In the fight with Mox Mox, Call had somehow wrenched his neck. It began to pain him badly as he rode south with Lorena. At times it was as if his nerves were on fire, and he had to grit his teeth against the pain as they rode. He could hardly turn his head to the right at all, and he had to be cautious about turning it to the left, or a streak of fire shot up from his shoulder blade almost to his ear.
'It's just a nuisance,' Call said, when Lorena asked whether he was well. She could see the strain in his face.
'We should have bought some liniment, when we had the chance,' Lorena said. 'Pea Eye's always getting sore in his back. He can't lift hay like he once could.' Call could not rid himself of the conviction that they were being followed. He had no evidence, but he could not relax. Every time he turned his head to scan the horizon behind them, the pain shot up his neck.
On the evening of the third day, they met a small horse herd being driven north by two cowboys. One of the cowboys, a tall fellow named Roy Malone, had a drooping mustache that reminded Call of Dish Boggett, the excellent Hat Creek cowboy who was now selling hardware in Lincoln, New Mexico.
By coincidence, the horse herd was bound for the Chisum Ranch, not far from Lincoln.
'You're welcome to stop the night with us,' Call told Roy Malone, but the cowboy shook his head.
'You don't stop for the whole night, if you work for Mr. Chisum,' Roy said. 'He likes things to happen prompt, if not a little sooner.' Call would have been relieved to have some help.
As it was, he stood watch himself most of the night.
Lorena proved a competent traveling companion. They had bacon and coffee, acquired in Fort Stockton, and she had coffee made and bacon fried not long after they made camp. In the morning, she cooked them a bite of breakfast before first light.
'That cowboy reminded me an awful lot of Dish,' Call said, as they ate. 'I'd like to see Dish sometime. I never expected him to go in the hardware business.' 'I wonder if he married?' Lorena said. Dish had been in love with her once; he had stayed in love for several years.
It was a love she couldn't return, though--she just couldn't. Some traveler told her that Dish had taken a sledgehammer and used it to smash a heavy barrel of horseshoe nails, in his surprise and disappointment, when the news reached him that she had married Pea Eye. The traveler said that people in Lincoln were worried that Dish would lose his mind from disappointment, even though by that time, she hadn't so much as seen him in over three years.
Lorena didn't know what had kept her so stiff with Dish. She had just got stiff. For a time in Nebraska, he had brought her flowers and given her little presents, but it hadn't changed anything.
Then she fell in love with Pea Eye, who would never have ventured to choose a present for her, or pick her a flower, either.
'I guess I should have left Pea Eye at home,' Call said, after they ate. 'Then you wouldn't have had to make this long trip.' 'It won't matter, once I get him back,' Lorena said.
The way she said it made Call wish they could hurry along a little faster, or that Pea Eye would get wind that his wife was coming and ride to meet them. He felt he had run a miserable expedition so far; it was the most ineffective of his life. Three families had been inconvenienced, with as yet no progress at all in the matter of Joey Garza. Rumor in Fort Stockton had it that Joey had gone back to Coahuila, but no one really had the details, and Call didn't know how much credit to give the rumor. Now he regretted that he had taken Brookshire with him, or Deputy Plunkert, either. Colonel Terry would rightly be incensed at the long wait and the absence of results.
Brookshire had lost his wife while on the trip, and Pea Eye had lost time from his farming.
Lorena had to take leave from her schoolteaching.
When they got to Presidio, he meant to send everyone home. From that point on, he would hunt Joey Garza alone.
Call wished his neck would ease up. He had rarely felt a pain more intense than the fire that shot up his neck if he moved his head a little too quickly. He also wished the cold would abate.
In the morning, his hands were so swollen that he had increasing trouble doing the packing. Lorena saddled her mount and was ready to go before he could complete his chores.
When they got ready to start, Call noticed two horses standing a fair distance to the northwest of their camp.
'I wonder if those cowboys lost some horses,' he said. 'If they did, there'll be trouble when they get to John Chisum's. He's the kind of man who counts his horses, and he expects a full count.' He finished his coffee. Lorena was about done with her packing. Their breaths made clouds of steam; it was hard to see the knots they had to tie to secure their duffle.
