Novel 1966 - Kid Rodelo (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour

it.”
    Gopher, first on watch, went to a rock near the horses, a position from which he could look over the camp without being approached from behind. Rodelo found a place in the lee of a rock that could shelter him from the cold wind blowing down the arroyo.
    But there was more to it than that. Scattered on the ground were the smaller twigs broken from the firewood they had gathered, and it was virtually impossible for anyone to approach without a stick cracking. Wrapped in his blanket, Rodelo took a last look at the fire, at the positions of the others, and then went to sleep.
    Chapter 8
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    R ODELO WAS AWAKENED by Nora’s careful, almost noiseless movements when she went to relieve Gopher.
    “It’s only me, Gopher,” she said. “It’s my turn to take the watch.”
    “You don’t have to, ma’am. I can stick it out.”
    “You get some sleep while you can. I think tomorrow will be a rough day.”
    “I’d like to do it, ma’am. It would be a real pleasure for a lady like yourself.”
    “No…you get some rest. And Gopher, drink a lot of water. That’s what Dan has been advising me to do.”
    Gopher was standing up, and Rodelo could see him. He heard his voice, very low. “I like him, ma’am—that Rodelo, I mean. I think he’s square. I guess…I guess I never met many who were really on the level. Not like him.”
    “He was in prison.”
    “But he wasn’t guilty, ma’am!” Gopher said quickly. “Everybody knew that. He just got himself roped into the deal when Joe Harbin grabbed that gold. Folks thought he’d connived with Joe, but that ain’t so, and many’s the time in prison I heard Joe say as much. He figured it was a good joke on Rodelo.”
    Gopher was silent for a moment, then he added, “Joe could have cleared Rodelo, but he didn’t. You see, the way I heard it, after Joe stood up that payroll he made a clean getaway, then ran into Rodelo on the trail and they rode on together, the way folks do when they meet up like that. Only it seems Rodelo knew about that payroll and they figured him to be in on it.”
    “You’d better get some rest, Gopher,” Nora said. “Tomorrow is another long hot day.”
    Dan Rodelo lay quiet. Well, Gopher had told her, and from Gopher she would believe it, for Gopher had nothing to gain by lying. Suddenly, he was glad she knew, even though she did not, yet, know all of it. Nobody knew it all but himself, not even the people back at the mine who had been willing enough to buy the idea that he was a thief.
    He lay there, half awake, half asleep, for some time, and finally eased from under the blankets and belted on his gun again. He went at once to the tank and drank, deep and long. Out in the night a coyote sounded, and he listened, but heard no echo. The Indians said that was the way to tell…that a man imitating a coyote would also make an echo, but there was something in the timbre of a coyote’s howl that did not echo. Rodelo had never decided whether this was true or not, but it seemed to be, the few times he had put it to the test.
    He walked out to where Nora was on guard. She looked around quickly, her gun muzzle lifting. He grinned in the darkness. No nonsense about her—she was ready for trouble.
    “It’s me,” he said quietly.
    “My time isn’t up yet.”
    “Do you object to some extra rest? I was awake, and I might as well be awake out here as back there.”
    He seated himself near her. The night was still. Out upon the desert nothing moved. The stars held still in the sky; the black bulk of Pinacate loomed off to the south.
    “I didn’t expect the desert to be like this,” she said. “So much growing, and all.”
    “The plants have learned how to survive, each in its own way. Some of them store water against the long drouth, and some seeds will only grow when a certain amount of water has fallen. Most desert plants hold back their leaves or blossoms until the right amount of rain comes, then they blossom quickly and get it over