ElevenInformation from dying lips
“We got to keep moving,” said Simms, after the sound of gunfire echoing across the open vastness brought him up sharp. “If that boy has got himself killed, then I'm truly in the shit.”
Deep Water shrugged, turning to the west. “I see no other tracks but the four ponies. I think the boy has ridden yonder.” He gestured towards the west.
“But do you see his tracks?”
“Not yet. But I will.”
Simms pulled in a long breath. “I wonder where the hell he's gone?”
“If he stays out on the open range, he will die within two days in this heat. Perhaps less.”
“You're full of comfort, Deep Water. Thanks.” Simms bit his lip, struggling to decide what to do. The sense of dread, which had haunted him these past few days, continued to scratch away at him. He stood up in
