They could see now that it was a truck. Whether or not it was Wootan, Sisson couldn't tell, but he assumed it was. It was a stake truck, and there were riders in the bed. They could see the truck, so it was not impossible that the riders could see them. And Tom was still coming up from behind. Sisson turned, still in his crouch, and looked behind him. There was no sign of Tom.

Since the riders in the truck were elevated from ground level, Sisson couldn't tell whether they could see past the swale where he and John crouched, but he thought the two of them were deep enough that the sight lines were more over their heads than at them. He was behind a small creosote bush, and John had a couple of yucca on the top of the ridge in front of him. His main concern was Tom. And then the men in the truck began to wave, first one, then the rest.

Sisson pushed himself farther down behind the creosote bush and rolled over on his back to see what was behind him. Twenty or thirty rods back sat Tom, on his horse, waving nonchalantly to the truck as it went past. The men in the truck waved back. Tom turned his horse and headed it north, slowly, steadily. A cowboy out riding fences or herding strays. Nothing out of the usual.

Sisson turned back onto his belly and crawled around the creosote bush and looked out toward the truck. It had slowed, and there was some interest in the lone rider heading north—a bit of pointing, some looking. Then the truck geared down and lurched forward to curses and laughter from the men riding in the back. The dust plume got larger. Sisson stayed prone for a good while, keeping his head down. He looked up every now and again, watching the plume go farther and farther south. He was just scooting onto his knees, ready to get up and go get his horse, when something slammed into his butt.

He spun around, pulling his revolver and pointing it at the grinning, still-mounted Tom, who threw up his hands in mock horror. “Damn,” Tom said. “Just when I thought it was safe.”

“Goddamn, Tom. I could have shot you.”

“I know. I just passed up a bunch of opportunities to get shot. I been doing a lot of that these past days. Least we didn't get pissed on this time.”

“You fucking waved at them.”

“And they waved back. Neighborly folk.”

“What if they had stopped to chat?”