Brennan pulled Rintoon's limp body up over his shoulder and carried him across the yard. When he returned, Chink was coming around the adobe with three horses already saddled. Frank Usher stood near the house and now Doretta Mims appeared in the doorway.
Usher looked at her. 'You'll have to fork one of these like the rest of us. There ain't no lady's saddle about.'
She came out, neither answering nor looking at him.
Usher called to Brennan, 'Cut one out of that team and shoot the rest,' nodding to the stagecoach.
Minutes later the Sasabe station was deserted.
They followed the creek west for almost an hour before swinging south toward high country. Leaving the creek, Brennan had thought: Five more miles and I'm home. And his eyes hung on the long shallow cup of the Sasabe valley until they entered a trough that climbed winding ahead of them through the hills, and the valley was no longer in view.
Frank Usher led them single file--Doretta Mims, followed by Brennan, and Chink bringing up the rear. Chink rode slouched, swaying with the movement of his dun mare, chewing idly on the drawstring of his hat, and watching Brennan.
Brennan kept his eyes on the woman much of the time. For almost a mile, as they rode along the creek, he had watched her body shaking silently and he knew that she was crying. She had very nearly cried mounting the horse--pulling her skirts down almost desperately, then sitting, holding on to the saddle horn with both hands, biting her lower lip and not looking at them. Chink had sidestepped his dun close to her and said something, and she had turned her head quickly as the color rose from her throat over her face.
They dipped down into a barranca thick with willow and cottonwood and followed another stream that finally disappeared into the rocks at the far end. And after that they began to climb again. For some time they rode through the soft gloom of timber, following switchbacks as the slope became steeper, then came out into the open and crossed a bare gravelly slope, the sandstone peaks above them cold pink in the fading sunlight.
They were nearing the other side of the open grade when Frank Usher said, 'Here we are.'
Brennan looked beyond him and now he could make out, through the pines they were approaching, a weather-scarred stone-and-log hut built snugly against the steep wall of sandstone. Against one side of the hut was a hide-covered lean-to. He heard Frank Usher say, 'Chink, you get the man making a fire and I'll get the woman fixing supper.'
There had not been time to eat what the woman had prepared at the stage station and now Frank Usher and Chink ate hungrily, hunkered down a dozen yards out from the lean-to where Brennan and the woman stood.
Brennan took a plate of the jerky and day-old pan bread, but Doretta Mims did not touch the food. She stood next to him, half turned from him, and continued to stare through the trees across the bare slope in the direction they had come. Once Brennan said to her, 'You better eat something,' but she did not answer him.
When they were finished, Frank Usher ordered them into the hut.
'You stay there the night...and if either of you comes near the door, we'll let go, no questions asked. That plain?'
The woman went in hurriedly. When Brennan entered he saw her huddled against the back wall near a corner.
The sod-covered hut was windowless, and he could barely make her out in the dimness. He wanted to go and sit next to her, but it went through his mind that most likely she was as afraid of him as she was of Frank Usher and Chink. So he made room for himself against the wall where they had placed the saddles, folding a saddle blanket to rest his elbow on as he eased himself to the dirt floor. Let her try and get hold of herself, he thought; then maybe she will want somebody to talk to.
He made a cigarette and lit it, seeing the mask of her face briefly as the match flared, then he eased himself lower until his head was resting against a saddle, and smoked in the dim silence.
Soon the hut was full dark. Now he could not see the woman, though he imagined that he could feel her presence. Outside, Usher and Chink had added wood to the cook fire in front of the lean-to and the warm glow of it illuminated the doorless opening of the hut.
They'll sit by the fire, Brennan thought, and one of them will always be awake. You'd get about one step through that door and bam. Maybe Frank would aim low, but Chink would shoot to kill. He became angry thinking of Chink, but there was nothing he could do about it and he drew on the cigarette slowly to make himself relax, thinking: Take it easy: you've got the woman to consider. He thought of her as his responsibility and not even a doubt entered his mind that she was not. She was a woman, alone. The reason was as simple as that.
He heard her move as he was snubbing out the cigarette. He lay still and he knew that she was coming toward him. She knelt as she reached his side.
'Do you know what they've done with my husband?'
He could picture her drawn face, eyes staring wide open in the darkness. He raised himself slowly and felt her stiffen as he touched her arm. 'Sit down here and you'll be more comfortable.' He moved over to let her sit on the saddle blanket. 'Your husband's all right,' he said.
'Where is he?'
'They didn't tell you?'
'No.'
Brennan paused. 'One of them took him to Bisbee to see your father.'
'My father?'
'To ask him to pay to get you back.'
'Then my husband's all right.' She was relieved, and it was in the sound of her voice.
Brennan said, after a moment, 'Why don't you go to sleep now? You can rest back on one of these saddles.'
'I'm not tired.'
'Well, you will be if you don't get some sleep.'
She said then, 'They must have known all the time that we were coming.'
Brennan said nothing.
'Didn't they?'
'I don't know, ma'am.'
'How else would they know about...who my father is?'
'Maybe so.'
'One of them must have been in Contention and heard my husband charter the coach. Perhaps he had visited Bisbee and knew that my father...' Her voice trailed off because she was speaking more to herself than to Brennan.
After a pause Brennan said, 'You sound like you feel a little better.'
He heard her exhale slowly and he could imagine she was trying to smile.
'Yes, I believe I do now,' she replied.
'Your husband will be back sometime tomorrow morning,' Brennan said to her.
She touched his arm lightly. 'I do feel better, Mr. Brennan.'
He was surprised that she remembered his name. Rintoon had mentioned it only once, hours before. 'I'm glad you do. Now, why don't you try to sleep?'
She eased back gently until she was lying down and for a few minutes there was silence.
'Mr. Brennan?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
'I'm terribly sorry about your friend.'
'Who?'
'The driver.'
'Oh. Thank you.'
'I'll remember him in my prayers,' she said, and after this she did not speak again.
Brennan smoked another cigarette, then sat unmoving for what he judged to be at least a half hour, until he was sure Doretta Mims was asleep.
Now he crawled across the dirt floor to the opposite wall. He went down on his stomach and edged toward
