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"Lamy," he said harshly, "we're going to get away from this posse maybe. Anyway, soon's it's dark we'll ride south. It's just possible we can leave 'em up here in the hills." "Suppose I refuse to go?" "Then I'll have to truss you up an' tie you to your horse, an' don't think I won't do it!" The ring of menace in Rathburn's voice convinced the other, but he made no comment.
And if you want a little Versailles of retreat away from the braying of the burros and of the humans, away from the dust of street and of small talk then of a May day when the orchard is in bloom and the air alive with the song of the bees, go to the old French garden of the late Bishop Lamy!
Rathburn looked at Lamy soberly. However, it was Lamy who spoke first. "You said the best place to hide from a posse was in the middle of it," he said scornfully. "Why not leave the horses in the timber an' run for the house? Maybe it has a cellar." "I reckon that would be as good a move as any," replied Rathburn, to the other's surprise. "I'm game if you are."
We spent that day pulling up the Raton pass, and so on over the Glorietta pass down to Lamy, where, as the party wanted to see Sante Fé, I had our two cars dropped off the overland, and we ran up the branch line to the old Mexican city.
"Just sit down, and I'll get you some breakfast," said the girl. The two men in the little cellar could hear some of the men taking chairs and one or two going out to look after the horses. The girl's light footsteps retreated into the kitchen. Rathburn smiled mysteriously at Lamy who was shivering with a case of nerves.
You must ask your questions of me, as I am the central figure in this affair." The cry of a girl startled them. She came running from the kitchen where she had fled when the sheriff announced his intention to shoot through the floor. "Ed!" she cried, running to Lamy and throwing her arms about him. "Oh Ed!" "Who is he, ma'am?" asked the sheriff. "Your husband?" "He's my brother Ed Lamy."
This latter would have looked hopeful but for the fact that it was a party of three women and a man. Going back beyond Lamy didn't give anything, for the conductor was able to account for every fare as either still in the train or as having got off at some point.
He stammered during this speech as if he had just remembered something remembered when it was too late. Rathburn noted the frown and the confused expression in Lamy's eyes. He turned abruptly and walked away. A few minutes later he came back to find Lamy sitting with his back to a tree, staring unseeing into the deepening twilight.
Lamy's eyes flamed with excitement as he turned his mount into the trees. They came to what looked like a bear pit or a prospect hole. It was partly filled with brush. "We can hide our saddles in there an' let the horses go," Lamy suggested. "There's a few horses runnin' in through here, an' they may join 'em." "You can do that with yours," said Rathburn grimly.
"Here's your shooting iron," he said, as he held the weapon out to Lamy. The other stared at him in astonishment. "Take it!" snapped out Rathburn. "Take it, or I may change my mind!" Lamy took the gun wonderingly, balanced it for a moment in his hand, and shoved it into his holster. Rathburn motioned toward the south and Lamy rode along at his side.
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