“No. We got to keep moving.”

“We got time,” Sisson said. “Would you climb back in here if you weren't being chased by a bunch of shoe salesmen thinking they're Wyatt Earp?”

Tom smiled. “No. Don't guess I would.”

Sisson nodded. “Let's take a little time and not kill ourselves.”

“Yeah,” Tom said. “We'll have some horses, too.”

“I took a few horses in my life,” Sisson said. “Maybe you have, too. Usually, I just happened on them. You steal a horse because it's there, not because you're looking for one. And, generally, there ain't three for the stealing unless you walk right into someone's ranch and gun sights. I'm thinking we may steal a horse or two. I'm not thinking we're going to find us three right off the bat.”

“We'll find three. I don't much like the idea of the three of us going into Mexico on less than three horses. It makes a bad impression.”

“I don't think we need to worry much about impressions,” Sisson said.

“Always got to worry about impressions. An American generally does all right in Mexico because the Mexicans know he's got money. An American without a horse is sure to be a broke American. They don't have much use for broke Americans down there. A broke American ain't no better than a Mexican when it comes right down to it.”

“Let's steal some horses, then.”

They came down into the foothills of the Dragoons in the late afternoon. They had walked a lot of miles, a lot of those vertical, rarely speaking. Tom had scrambled up rocks and then let the rope down for his brother and Sisson nearly a dozen times. In midafternoon they had found a small pool where the ground dipped to lower than the water table and let water collect. They had rested for nearly half an hour, drinking their fill and filling the water bags, which John and Sisson carried now.

There was not a lot of light left. Again they were facing the long, broad prairie of the Sulphur Springs Valley, which they would have to cross at night. Where they were going was just beyond where they had been nearly a week ago. They would have to go back past Pearce, where the old lady would surely have called the law. Then, in the dark, they would have to find Ash Creek and follow that up and into the Chiricahuas. Each carried a rifle and a sidearm. They had filled their pockets with as much ammunition as they could stuff in them. It was going to be a hell of a trip across the valley.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

1916