He was pretty sure some of the keyboards he saw—there were at least two dozen—controlled computers. What other gadgetry was there? How much was still up and running? Were there weapons stored here? He somehow thought the answer to this last question was no—if there had been weapons, they had no doubt been decommissioned or appropriated, very likely by Andy the Messenger Robot (Many Other Functions).

At last he decided it was safe to leave…if, that was, he was extremely careful, rode slowly back to the river, and took pains to approach the Rocking B the back way. He was nearly to the door when another question occurred to him. Was there a record of his and Oy’s visit to the Dogan? Were they on videotape somewhere? He looked at the operating TV screens, sparing his longest stare for the one showing the control room. He and Oy were on it again. From the camera’s high angle, anyone in the room would have to be in that picture.

Let it go, Jake,the gunslinger in his head advised. There’s nothing you can do about it, so just let it go. If you try poking and prying, you’re apt to leave sign. You might even set off an alarm.

The idea of tripping an alarm convinced him. He picked up Oy—as much for comfort as anything else—and got the hell out. His pony was exactly where Jake had left him, cropping dreamily at the bushes in the moonlight. There were no tracks in the hardpan…but, Jake saw, he wasn’t leaving any himself. Andy would have broken through the crusty surface enough to leave tracks, but not him. He wasn’t heavy enough. Probably Benny’s Da’ wasn’t, either.

Quit it. If they’d smelled you, they would have come back.

Jake supposed that was true, but he still felt more than a little like Goldilocks tiptoeing away from the house of the Three Bears. He led his pony back to the desert road, then put on the duster and slipped Oy into the wide front pocket. As he mounted up, he thumped the bumbler a fairly good one on the saddle-horn.

“Ouch, Ake!” Oy said.

“Quit it, ya baby,” Jake said, turning his pony back in the direction of the river. “Gotta be quiet, now.”

“Kiyit,” Oy agreed, and gave him a wink. Jake worked his fingers down through the bumbler’s heavy fur and scratched the place Oy liked the best. Oy closed his eyes, stretched his neck to an almost comical length, and grinned.