Part 66 (1/2)
Molly reached for the bran sack. ”You only shook it out,” she said.
”I'm going to turn it inside out. Maybe we'll find something else.”
They did find something else. They found a doc.u.ment caught in the end seam. They read it with care and great interest.
”Well,” said Racey, when he came to the signatures, ”no wonder Jack Harpe and Jakey Pooley wanted to get into the safe. No wonder. If we don't get the whole gang now we're no good.”
”And to think we never thought of such a thing.”
”I was took in. I never thought anything else. And it does lie just right for a cow ranch.”
”Of course it does. You couldn't help being fooled. None of us had any idea--”
”I'd oughta worked it out,” he grumbled. ”There ain't any excuse for my swallowing what Jack Harpe told me. Lordy, I was easy.”
”What do you care now? Everything's all right, and you've got me, haven't you?” And here she leaned across the bran sack to kiss him.
She could not understand why his return kiss lacked warmth.
”Sun's been up two hours,” he announced. ”And the hosses have had a good rest. We'd better be goin'.”
”What are you climbing the tree for, then?” she demanded.
”I want to look over our back trail,” he told her, clambering into the branches of a tall cedar. ”I know we covered a whole heap of ground last night, but you never can tell.”
Apparently you never could tell. For, when he arrived near the top of the cedar and looked out across a sea of treetops to the flat at the base of the mountain, he saw that which made him catch his breath and slide earthward in a hurry.
”What is it?” asked Molly in alarm at his expression.
”They picked up our trail somehow,” he answered, whipping up a blanket and saddle and throwing both on her horse. ”They're about three miles back on the flat just a-burnin' the ground.”
”Saddle your own horse,” she cried, running to his side. ”I'll attend to mine.”
”You stuff all the papers back in the sack. That's yore job. Hustle, now. I'll get you out of this. Don't worry.”
”I'm not worrying--not a worry,” she said, cheerfully, both hands busy with Luke Tweezy's papers. ”I'd like to know how they picked up the trail after our riding up that creek for six miles.”
”I dunno,” said he, his head under an upflung saddle-fender. ”I sh.o.r.e thought we'd lost 'em.”
She stopped tying the sack and looked at him. ”How silly we are!”
she cried. ”All we have to do is show these two letters to the posse an'--”
”S'pose now the posse is led by Jack Harpe and Jakey Pooley,” said he, not ceasing to pa.s.s the cinch strap.
Her face fell. ”I never thought of that,” she admitted. ”But there must be some honest men in the bunch.”
”It takes a whole lot to convince an honest man when he's part of a posse,” Racey declared, reaching for the bran sack. ”They don't stop to reason, a posse don't, and this lot of Marysville gents wouldn't give us time to explain these two letters, and before they got us back to town, the two letters would disappear, and then where would we be?
We'd be in jail, and like to stay awhile.”
”Let's get out of here,” exclaimed Molly, crawling her horse even quicker than Racey did his.
Racey led the way along the mountain side for three or four miles.