Clear of the town, she is racing the trap along faster than she ought to. The horse is sweating at a brisk trot but she is keen to be back to see how Billy is getting on and to hear how Sanchez fared at the dam. She has forgotten, for the moment, about her sentinel from the morning, the deputy who had followed her.
As she follows a slight bend in the road, she glimpses him out of the corner of her eye. Mannion had said his name was Wilson. Dressed in black, he is riding along a distance behind her. Not quite far enough back to be out of sight. Perhaps he wants her to know that he's there, that he's watching her. What does he know? Perhaps he knows nothing and just wants to scare her into thinking he knows something. If he knows something, surely he'd do more than just follow?
Up ahead she sees another rider stopped in the road. He is waiting for her, she is certain of that. He has stopped just at the point where the road to the ranch forks off to the left. Damn this wagon. If she'd been on horseback she could have left the road, ridden through the stream and got away from these men. The trap will turn over if she turns off the road at this speed. She slows the horse to a walk as she approaches the stationary rider and slips one hand into her skirts to find the derringer she has concealed in there.
'Miss Nixon.' He doffs his hat. He's not a young man, his face is weatherworn and craggy. His hair is stuck to his forehead by sweat. He is chewing lazily. She notices the little star pinned on his chest. Another deputy.
'Is there a problem?' she says brusquely.
'I believe there is ma'am. I believe there is.'
She sits silently waiting for him to explain himself. Her horse fidgets, keen to get moving as it senses how close it is to home.
'You see there's someone in these parts that seems to think it's a good idea to go about dynamiting people's houses. You might have heard about that?'
She nods. She is aware that Wilson hasn't stopped and will soon ride up behind her.
'Well it seems the sheriff thought we should be keeping an eye on you. Do you think he's troubled that someone might put some dynamite down your chimney?'
'I'm sure my men can take good care of the ranch and that you boys can look after the other people hereabouts.'
'In'eresting you should say that ma'am. Most in'erestin'.' He spits.
She waits. Wilson is now standing his horse only a few yards behind her.
'You see.' He goes on eventually after spitting some more. 'You see the sheriff tells me he's been speaking to one of your men who says that it was him that put the dynamite in Mr. McLaren's cabin. Now why do you think he would be saying that?'
She is startled but does her best to conceal it. Her grip tightens on the little gun despite the knowledge that it is no match for two deputies.
'It seems to me that your man is trying to get leniency by stating to the court that it was you that put him up to it. That would make some sense now, wouldn't it?'
'I'm afraid what you're saying makes no sense to me at all.' There is a little waver in her voice.
'Well in that case ma'am, you think on it. Perhaps it will come to you which of your men it might be that's been talking to the sheriff and whether or not a judge might be inclined to believe him. The sheriff himself seemed mighty convinced by him.' He spits again, a long foul-looking stream. A smile breaks onto his craggy face. 'It's been a long time since we dragged a woman through the streets by her heels. You think on it.'
With that he pulls his horse to the side of the road. She doesn't need to be told to go on and neither does the horse who senses the slightest shift in the reins and sets off immediately up the fork to the ranch.
She looks back to see the two deputies still standing at the junction.
Was he telling the truth? It's always hard to tell with the sheriff's men. They're not beyond inventing things for their own ends. It's not as if she wasn't courting suspicion about the McLaren house. So it could be true. After all, Sanchez had his cunning idea of hiring a stranger from out of town to do the dirty work. It sounds as though this stranger, having no ties of loyalty to her or Sanchez has been caught and is going to drag her down with him.
The plan had seemed so clever, so foolproof. The stranger would be gone as soon as he came and there would be no evidence that she was linked to the death of McLaren. Now it is all unraveling. McLaren survives the blast, and the mercenary has been caught and will talk. What a disaster. This morning she was simply worried about whether Billy would hang. Now she worries that they all will. The only solution is to find this mercenary, whoever he might be, and stop the sheriff ever talking to him again.
Sanchez is sat on the steps to the porch idly flicking stones at a tin can while he waits for her to return. He doesn't look up as she rides up and climbs down from hurriedly from the trap.
'Is everything alright?' She is troubled by his lack of welcome. 'Is it Billy? Is he alright?'
'Billy is doing well.' he says, looking up. 'He sat up earlier. Laura is a good nurse.'
'At the dam?' she says cryptically, not knowing who else can hear their conversation.
'It was a big mess. Billy got him alright.' He shakes his head. 'I did what I could. It won't take an Indian tracker to work out what went on there. Too much mess.'
'That's terrible. They suspect, you know.'
'Is that not what you want?'
'Yes, I guess. I don't know.' She can feel tears welling up in her anger and confusion. She sits down on the step next to Sanchez disregarding the dust on her fine dress.
'Do they know about the deputy?' He still hasn't looked up.
'No. I don't think so. Nobody in town talked about him. The deputies didn't mention him.'
'The deputies?'
She explains to him about the hold-up on the road and how they'd claimed that his mercenary was offering to tell the sheriff everything.
'That is not right. The man I hired, he was...'
'I don't want to know who he is.' She interrupts.
'That is best, the less you know of him is better. But I do not believe the deputy. This man, he did not seem a dishonest man.'
'An honest man puts dynamite in another man's house for money?'
He nods slowly conceding that she has a good point.
'Have you paid him yet?'
'Half. The rest was to be paid when the job was done.' He looks at her. 'I hope you are not suggesting we fail to pay him the rest of the money. That will not go well for us.'
'Just suppose that the deputies are telling the truth and that this man is talking to the sheriff about us. If that's true then we're both going to find ourselves on the end of a rope.' She sniffs back a tear of angry indignation. 'I don't want that. You don't want that. This man is a liability, a danger to us. He needs to be in the same hole you put that deputy in last night.'
Sanchez shakes his head.
'If you won't do it to save your own neck, then tell me who he is and I'll do it myself.'
'I'll deal with him.' He says sadly. 'I must arrange with him a time to pay him the last of the money. I will deal with him then.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
Breakfast at the hotel is a quiet affair. There are few guests staying at the hotel, the bustle in the daytime is almost entirely townspeople for whom it is a place to be seen.
A man stands up from his table, spurs jangling, and calls out loudly for Renault. They have a loud conversation about fetching his horse for him.