He made no effort to get up. He lay there, rubbing his hand across his bleeding mouth, then looking at it. In a voice so weak Pete barely heard it, he said, “I remember when you were eight, and you took diphtheria. You would have died, but your mother and I would not allow it.” Bitterly he shook his head. “Better you had died an innocent boy than to become what you are.”

Pete shouted, “Hurry up, Scully. we got to be movin’.”

Scully came out of the kitchen with a cloth sack. “Didn’t find much. Some bacon, some cold bread. Not even any coffee.”

“It’ll do. Let’s go.”

His father still lay on the floor, gasping as if he could not catch breath enough to fill his lungs. Pete barely yielded him a glance as he rushed out the door. He ran toward his tied horse, which took fright and pulled back hard against the reins. Pete had difficulty mounting him. Once in the saddle, he slapped the horse across the shoulders with the long reins. “Settle down, damn you!” For a moment it looked as if the animal would pitch.

“You want to run, you jughead?” Pete turned northward and drummed his heels against the horse’s ribs. He had no spurs. “Then damn you, run!” He lashed the animal’s shoulders again.

Scully had trouble keeping up. He struggled to tie the sack of food with his saddle strings while his own mount jumped a ditch and galloped after Pete’s. “For God’s sake, Pete . . .”

Pete let his horse run a mile or so before he slowed to an easier lope, then a long trot. Scully caught up, complaining as usual. “You’re goin’ to kill these horses.”

“Never let a horse think he’s boss or he’ll take advantage of you every time.”

“How far back do you reckon the army is?”

“Wasn’t nobody left but that lieutenant, and he took my bullet in his shoulder.”

“But there’s them Monahans, especially that James. And Rusty Shannon. They’d kill us on sight, give them half a chance.”

Pete growled, “I wish you’d shut up. You tryin’ to turn me into a coward, too?” Scully’s fears were beginning to get to him, though he hoped it did not show. Scully would probably go limp as a rag doll if he saw that Pete was weakening. What little strength the man had left, he was borrowing from Pete.

Pete kicked his horse back into a lope. “Since you’re so damned scared, we’ll pick up the pace.”

After a time he began to sense his horse’s stride becoming more labored. He knew he should slow down, but Scully’s fear was infectious.

That next hill yonder, he thought. We’ll stop and look back when we get to the top of it. If we don’t see anybody, we’ll rest the horses.