Chapter 15
"NOW, GO!"IT WAS Wednesday again. Four horses, sweat streaked, toiled
laboriously to drag the heavy coach up the north side of Hell's
Bend Pass. It was a tough pull even with a light load-one that
really demanded six horses and would have had six in the old
days-and today the load was light. There was but a single
passenger. She sat on the driver's box with Bill Gatlin with whom
she was in earnest discussion.
"I tell you I don't believe he did it," she was saying. "I'll
never believe that he did it, and I'm mighty glad that he got
away."
Gatlin shook his head. "There ain't no one got a better right to
say that than you has, Miss," he said, "fer 'twas your gold as was
stole, an' your messenger as was shot up; but nevertheless an'
howsumever I got my own private opin
