“Come on, Sippy, let’s go have a drink and brace up,” he said. “These two cowhands probably want to get their milking done, or something.”

We soon caught up with La Tulipe, who was having difficulties with Bonaparte.

The donkey had stopped to meditate, much as Rosy was apt to do. La Tulipe was tugging on the headrope, but her tugs were having as little effect as if La Tulipe were a bird flying overhead.

As Billy passed by, he grabbed the donkey’s tail and gave it a sharp twist, inspiring Bonaparte to such an unexpected burst of speed that La Tulipe had all she could do to escape being run over. She dropped the headrope, and Bonaparte and the cart raced on toward the settlement—to call it a town would be flattery.

“You don’t start a donkey at the head end,” Billy remarked. “You start a donkey at the tail end.”

“That Katie wants to take you to Mexico,” La Tulipe said to Billy.

“Katie’s pretty,” Billy admitted. “I never expected to see a girl so pretty.”

“Death lives in Mexico,” La Tulipe said.

Billy had been indulging in some pleasant reverie about Katerina, I imagine. When La Tulipe spoke he went white. Any mention of death turned Billy white unless it was a death he was preparing to cause.

“Oh, now,” he said, in a shocked tone.

La Tulipe’s hair was white and her heavy body slow, but her skin was unwrinkled and her eyes a clear blue.

“You got to watch out about rivers, Billy,” she said. “If you cross the North Canadian a horse will fall on you and you’ll be crippled.”

“I’ll never go near it,” Billy said quickly.

“Don’t cross the Rio Animas either,” the old woman warned. “If you do your soul will fall into the water and be carried away. And if you cross the Rio Grande you’ll die.”

“Shoot, I wasn’t planning to travel much anyway,” Billy said. “What’s my luck if I just ride up and down the Pecos?”

“Bloody luck,” La Tulipe said. “But the blood will not all be yours.”

We stopped in camp to get our horses, and the old woman hobbled on.

Billy looked as white as a sheet. He sat down on his blanket, shaking as he had when he saw the Death Dog.

“I almost went off to Mexico,” he said in a weak tone. “If Joe hadn’t wanted to wait for Tully, I’d have gone.”

“Well, Miss Garza’s a pretty girl, as you pointed out,” I said.

“Not pretty enough to die for,” Billy said.

20.

To everyone’s surprise, Isinglass trotted into Greasy Corners alone. The twenty riders who had helped make the dust cloud crossed the Pecos north of town and rode on east, toward Texas.