many engagements. This time, though, he felt it might be wise to carry a couple of extra guns. Goodnight's telegram had made him think twice about what lay ahead. Mox Mox was a complication. Call did not intend to go after him, but it might not be a matter of going after him. Mox Mox might come to Texas, for all anyone knew.
Also, Pea Eye had never owned a reliable gun, and Famous Shoes rarely went armed. He moved too fast to be carrying weapons. The extra Winchesters would come in handy.
As they left the store, Call handed the receipts to Brookshire, who carefully folded them and put them in his shirt pocket. The day had turned cold, and the sky was the color of steel.
It was nearing evening; Brookshire still entertained the hope that they would spend at least one night in a hotel of some sort. But the Captain had not mentioned a hotel. He was securing the provisions, tying them onto the pack animals.
Ted Plunkert, for once, shared an opinion with the Yankee, who had mentioned to him, hesitantly, that it would be very nice to spend one night in a bed, inside a building.
'Yes, I don't much care what it's like, as long as it's inside,' the deputy said.
But when Call was satisfied that the packs were secure, he mounted his horse and looked at the two men, both standing by their mounts.
'I guess we ain't staying the night. Is that right, Captain?' Brookshire asked.
'Why, no. Your boss wants results, ain't that correct?' Call said.
'That's correct,' Brookshire replied.
'There's a full moon tonight, and we should take advantage of it,' Call said. 'The horses are rested. We should be able to make it to the Rio Concho.' 'How far is that, Captain?' Brookshire asked.
'I suppose about fifty miles,' Call said. 'If we don't strike it tonight, we'll strike it tomorrow.' Neither Brookshire nor Deputy Plunkert looked happy. Of course, Brookshire had lost his wife; he could not be expected to recover from such a blow immediately. But there was a full moon, and Call didn't want to waste it.
'Mr. Brookshire, I think it's better that we go on,' Call said. 'I'm sorry about your wife, but lagging won't bring her back. We'd better go get your boss some results.' 'Well, that's good,' Brookshire said.
'That's exactly what the Colonel wants.' 'I'm confident the Garza boy's not west of us, and I don't think he's south, either,' Call said. 'I think he's east and north. This is where the hunt starts. We haven't been in any danger, so far, but that might change in a day or two. I want you both to keep alert.
He's got that German rifle, don't forget it. We'll be going through country where there's not much cover. You both need to keep alert.' 'Do you think Joey Garza knows we're coming, Captain?' Brookshire asked.
'I expect so,' Call said. 'If he doesn't know it now, he'll know it by the time we cross the river.' 'Who'll tell him?' the deputy asked.
'Why, I don't know,' Call said. 'He's an intelligent young bandit. I expect he'll know we're coming.' 'What do you think? Will he try to pick us off?' Deputy Plunkert asked. He noticed that the Captain was frowning at him. Brookshire, the Yankee, had already mounted; he looked miserable, but at least he was already on his horse.
Ted Plunkert hastily mounted too.
'I don't know what he'll try. Let's go to Texas,' the Captain said, turning his horse.
By the time the full moon appeared, they were well out of Chihuahua City. The moon shone on a landscape that seemed to be emptier than any of the barren country Brookshire had ridden through since coming to Texas. There was nothing to be seen at all, just the moon and the land. The wind soared; sometimes spumes of dust rose so high that the moon shone bleakly through them. At other times the dust cleared, and the moon shone bright--so bright that Brookshire could read his watch by its light. At midnight, they struck the Rio Concho, but the Captain neither slowed down nor looked back. He kept on riding toward Texas.
The blowing-away feeling came back to Brookshire, but it came to him laced with fatigue and sadness over the loss of his wife, Katie, a nice person. He felt heartsick at the knowledge that he would never see Katie again. His heartsickness went so deep that the blowing-away feeling didn't frighten him. It would be fine now, if he blew away. He would not have to face the Colonel and explain the exorbitant expenses that might accrue.
In Brooklyn, in his work as a salaried man, Brookshire had never paid much attention to the moon. Once in a while, on picnics, he might admire it as it shone over the East River, or the Hudson, if they went that far to picnic. But it hadn't mattered to him whether the moon was full, or just a sliver, or not there at all.
Once they were on the black desert in Mexico, Brookshire saw that the Captain had been right. The full moon, in the deep Mexican sky, was so bright that traveling was as easy as it would have been in daylight. Brookshire was still a salaried man, but he was also a manhunter now, a manhunter hunting a very dangerous man.
He was heading into Texas with Captain Woodrow Call, and he would probably do well to start paying more attention to the moon.
Part II The Manburner
Lorena was reading a letter from Clara when Clarie came in to tell her that Mr. Goodnight was at the door.
In the letter, Clara was urging her to make a beginning in Latin, advice that caused Lorena to feel doubtful. She thought she could do quite well with English grammar now, but she didn't know if she was up to Latin, or if she ever would be. The baby had been sick most of the time since Pea Eye left, and she had been sleeping tired and waking tired, worrying about the baby and worrying about Pea.
'Mr. Goodnight?' Lorena said. Though he had given the money to build the school she taught in, Lorena had only met Mr. Goodnight once or twice, and he had never visited her home.
'Why would he come here? Are you sure it's him?' she asked. She felt unprepared, and not merely for the study of Latin, either. At that moment, she just felt low, and her feet and hands were cold.
Usually, letters from Clara cheered Lorena, but this one made her feel more aware of her shortcomings.
She knew herself to be a competent country schoolteacher, but somehow, the Latin language felt as if it should belong to a better order of person than herself, a farmer's wife with five children, no money, and no
