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knowing for sure, he had to execute another plan. They could go to Mexico and wait for the heat to die down, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t stop off in Lincoln and grab some more cattle. They could drive them to Mexico and find a buyer there.
    His thoughts went back to Siringo. An ex-cowhand turned detective, he turned out to be a damned good one. Charlie Siringo was literally the only man Sandusky was concerned about.
    Sure wished he knew for sure if he was dead.
    And suddenly he wished he hadn’t kicked Delilah out so soon . . .
    *   *   *
    Clint had taken the last watch, so he had breakfast on the fire when the others woke up.
    â€œAh, damn it!” Tom Horn growled as he came awake.
    â€œYou okay?” Clint asked.
    â€œOh, yeah,” Horn said, “just stiff.”
    â€œYou need help gettin’ to your feet?” Siringo asked, standing.
    Horn seemed to give the offer some thought, then said, “Ah, why not?”
    Siringo went over and gave Horn a hand. Horn grabbed it and Siringo hauled him carefully to his feet.
    â€œAhh,” Horn groaned as he straightened. He started to walk around a bit, testing his leg. “You musta done a good job, Charlie.”
    â€œI hope so,” Siringo said.
    â€œCome on over here and have some breakfast,” Clint suggested. “Might make you feel even better.”
    â€œNot his coffee,” Siringo warned.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with his coffee?” Horn asked. “I like it. Good trail coffee.”
    â€œJesus,” Siringo said, shaking his head, but he accepted a cup from Clint.
    After breakfast Horn decided to pitch in, so he said he’d refill the canteens. Clint broke camp and killed the fire, while Siringo saddled the horses.
    They were ready to go.
    Horn insisted in mounting his horse on his own, so Clint and Siringo fell back, ready to jump in if he fell. But he managed to get himself in the saddle. Clint and Siringo mounted up, and they started south.
    *   *   *
    Sandusky pulled on his jeans, then called Anderson into the shack.
    â€œClose the door,” he said, not that it made any difference. The windows had no glass, and the walls were so thin, anybody who wanted to listen in could.
    â€œWhat’s up, boss?” Anderson asked. “Man, you sure tore Delilah up, huh? She looks sore as hell.”
    â€œI wanna stop over in Lincoln County and get some cows, Cal.”
    â€œWhere we gonna sell ’em?”
    â€œMexico.”
    â€œWe’re gonna drive ’em all the way to ol’ Mexico?” Anderson asked.
    â€œIt ain’t that far,” Sandusky said, “and we can use the money.”
    Anderson shrugged and said, “You’re the boss.”
    â€œYou think these men are up to it?” Sandusky asked.
    â€œMost of ’em are,” Anderson said. “Skeeter, Nelson, Rosario . . . they’re good men.”
    â€œAll right, then,” Sandusky said. “Start breakin’ camp and we’ll head to Lincoln.”
    â€œWhat do I tell the men?”
    â€œNothin’,” Sandusky said. “They’ll find out when the time comes.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œAnderson.”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œI know you got friends out there,” Sandusky said, “but don’t get too attached, huh?”
    Anderson gave a wolfish grin and said, “I getcha, boss.”

TWELVE
    Suddenly, the trail swung east.
    â€œThis is odd,” Horn said.
    â€œWhere could they be headed?” Clint asked.
    â€œSanta Rosa?” Siringo asked. “It’s the biggest town east of here.”
    â€œMaybe they want to rest,” Clint said.
    â€œCould be,” Horn said.
    â€œWe got no choice,” Siringo said. “We gotta follow.”
    Horn shrugged and said, “Let’s go.”
    They rode along Santa Rosa Lake later in the day until they came to a cold campsite, with