Farther to the northwest they saw a dust cloud coming from a car or truck. This, too, was likely a posse, probably Wootan. In a car or truck there would be several pairs of eyes searching the landscape for them. That the truck was moving faster than the riders were made those eyes more likely to miss things. It was small comfort.

“They're to the northeast and northwest of us,” Sisson said, riding back to Tom. John kept plodding on toward the hills. “And we know there are more southwest of us. We ain't exactly trapped, but we're close enough we don't need a debate on it.”

“Not exactly ‘trapped,’” Tom said. “All right. I ain't going to argue the point. The only direction that's open to us is southeast, and that's where the vehicle is headed. We want to head southwest, but then we'd be caught in a pincher. If we go where we was headed, we're going to run into those riders. So the only thing we got is to keep heading for the hills and keeping an eye on that vehicle and try to keep as much distance as possible between us and them. Maybe we should speed it up and try to beat them to the hills.”

Sisson looked at the plume of dust in the distance. “I wouldn't. The rabbit don't get caught until it decides to run. I would keep going like we was, spread even farther, if we have to. If they get one of us, the other two still got a chance. We look for a wash or a ditch or something to hide in. If it all works out, they will pass the hills before we get there. People chasing things look ahead. They forget to look behind them.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“I ain't certain of anything. I'm almost fifty years old, though, and I'm still here. I think I guess pretty good.” Sisson nodded and spurred his horse ahead, leaving Tom to come up behind. They moved that way for several minutes. Sisson kept losing sight of John, and that was good. It meant John was finding places to hide.

Both Sisson and Tom were riding flat on the backs of their horses now, trying to look like anything but the two mounted men they were. When he came to a small swale, not a wash or even a ditch, just a crease in the ground, Sisson rode in and dismounted. He saw John farther down the swale about twenty rods. John was dismounted as well and hunkered down on his heels. Sisson did the same.