CHAPTER TWENTY
Cruces felt stiff and bad-tempered. Along with the others, he’d been sat hunched up amongst a huge outcrop of rock for what seemed like hours after listening to Coltrane’s plan regarding the stage. Reluctantly, they’d ridden out across the range, sullen and silent. Now, however, both Channi and Len were muttering away to themselves, a noise which Cruces found more irritating than squeezing in between the rocks. “Can’t you two shut up?” he said at last, the pain in his leg growing worse by the second. Something wasn’t right, and he suspected Farlow hadn’t done as good a job as the old Doc had said.
“How do we know this is genuine?” asked Channi at last.
“Yeah,” put in Len. “Who told Coltrane about this? His new woman? How do we know she is telling the truth?”
“We don’t,”
