It was during the late afternoon of the next day that Mason reined in his horse, swung her around and wandered back to the wagon. Newhart stopped, took the chance to unstop his canteen to drink, then shot a questioning look at his friend as he came up alongside.
“Problem?”
Mason grinned, blew out a breath and turned his face to the sky. “Some. But don"t you let it trouble you, just keep following. We"ll camp soon, then we"ll talk.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Mason? Have we got trouble or not?”
Mason lowered his head, shrugged, the grin set like a permanent feature on his face. “Trust me, Newhart.”
“I hate it when you talk in riddles.”
“How"s the leg?”
Newhart frowned. “Better. You"re mighty strange, Mason. Did I ever tell you that?”
Mason patted his friend"s arm. “Many t
