Nestling amongst a jumble of jagged rocks, Roose and Stone did their best to stay comfortable, knowing they may well be there for some time. Shade was minimal, a fact not missed by Roose. ‘Always had me a wide-brimmed sombrero when I rode with the Army,’ he said, readjusting his own headwear, a battered Stetson.
Stone, bareheaded, pulled off his bandana and fashioned a sort of cap which he positioned on top of his skull. ‘Stupid. I should have brought something.’
‘Too late now,’ said Roose, pushing himself up against a large boulder in order to get a good view of the town below. He took up his field glasses and focused in on the main street. Few people were about, one of two wagons moving slowly along, but no sign of the burglars.
‘How long do you reckon we should wait?’
‘Beats me,’ sa
