"I do," said Jackson. "'Way west, almost to the Pyramid Hills. All of thirty miles. A bunch of rocks heaved out of the mesa that look a heap like churches."
"Si, that is it. There are cuevas (caves) there. The contrabandista use them one time, long ago."
"What about Pedro and the others?"
"I do not hear all they say, senor. Sometime they talk low. But he geev Pedro money, like the res'. An' Pedro say maybe he meet him manana in Mexicali or Los Angeles. So I think Pedro, maybe the res', they go away after they help him get the girl. Si. An' you, senor, it is muy bueno if you find her before it is dark."
The emphasis of the last words was ominous, it called for haste. But Sheridan regarded her doubtfully. She was still racked with passion, with jealousy, but he wanted to be sure.
"You say Hollister has sold his place and his cattle? What about your mother? Where is she?"
"Mi madre? Oh, she will stay an' be cocinero, housekeep' for the man who buy. She is ol', mi madre she stay where she know she can work an' eat. Me, I am go to the Circle S, senor, to tell you about your querida, then I go to Yuma. There I have a man who weel marry me. Si. Who weel not throw me away like the ol' sombrero."
"Hollister was your lover? You loved him?"
"Si. But, senor, love is like cream. It is very sweet an' then, maybe, unless it is look out for, it is sour. Love an' hate, they are so."
She thrust out one little fist, fingers upwards,
