"Bullshit," someone answered. "We ain't thiev'in any horses."
"Didn't know you was both so cold-footed," Bledsoe responded. "To hell with it, then. You just mind that you show up tomorrow."
"Yeah, yeah," the men in the house responded.
Bledsoe then rode away toward the northwest. The sky flashed white with lightning, and the wind howled between the buildings in the barnyard.
Ben and I decided we would wait until the two men turned in; then we would slip into the house and roust them. We watched the kerosene lamps go out about nine o'clock. By then, the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared up. A half-moon lit up the barnyard, enough so we could make our way to the house without tripping over anything and making noise. Finally, at about ten, we decided to make our move.
"You go roun
