He crossed the dog-run to his own room. There he found an old homespun shirt and a pair of trousers. He also found a threadbare coat he had once intended to throw away but had decided to save for cutting logs and other rough work of the kind. He looked into a cracked mirror at his bearded face. In a peaceful time he would have shaved, but such a luxury held no interest for him now. Anyway, the whiskers helped protect his face from the cold and the wind.

He did not stay long at his cabin but picked up the trail that led toward San Felipe. In low spots he saw enough deeply cut ruts to indicate that this was the direction Annie had taken with her wagon. He found where a second wagon had joined from the direction of Michael’s place. He was a little surprised to find indications that they had crossed over the river at the nearest ford and moved toward the Blackwood farm. What had possessed them to go by the Blackwoods’ he could not even guess, but he followed, putting the sorrel into a stiff trot. He found the Blackwoods’ abandoned wagon standing in front of their cabin, the wagon sheet loose and flapping in the wind. The wagon had been loaded with goods for departure, then abandoned. That worried James more than a little. He wondered what could have spooked them.

He made a quick search of the Blackwoods’ shed and found there two saddles which had to belong to Finis and Luke. He could not imagine why they had not taken them.

He was tired of riding bareback. He picked the strongest-looking of the two saddles and put it on the sorrel. He might argue it out with Finis when and if he ever saw the shiftless reprobate again. Given a good scare, Finis could already be halfway back to Tennessee, he thought.

As he moved eastward he lost the tracks of the two wagons because other wagons and carts had pulled into the same trail. Their wheels had sunk deeply into the soft mud, leaving a trace that would probably remain at least into the dry months of summer before they finally filled with dirt and covered with grass.

He had traveled several miles when he heard the distant sound of a shot. The sorrel horse swung its head to the right, its ears pointed forward. James saw a horse moving as fast as its rider could make it run. They were perhaps half a mile away, moving in a direction that would converge with James’s course a little farther on, near a patch of woods. A couple of hundred yards behind the rider, three more horsemen were in pursuit. James could make out no details. They were only dark silhouettes, but he guessed that the three were Mexican cavalrymen. He put the sorrel into a run. Perhaps he could help the fugitive. In any case it was only a question of time before the three soldiers saw him and made him a target, for he was in the open.