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Then at last we can talk properly.”“We’ll talk all right,” Connie said harshly, “and there will be some grovelling to be done.”The doorbell rang, and I went to answer it. I opened it. There she stood. She looked surprised, perhaps astonished.She was just as pretty as she had been when we were together, though now she wore a grimace of distain. It reminded me of her mother and did nothing for her looks. I looked inside myself for some feelings for her but she was like a stranger.“Come in,” I said, no more.She walked past me and went to living room. She had a briefcase which she put on the dining table, opened it, took out a large envelope and extracted its contents: a booklet and a pile of photos. Then she shed her coat and put it over the back of the dining chair.She stood back, her arms folded. She said nothing to me.I went to the table, sat down in another chair and read the report carefully, which purported to be a record of the investigator’s surveillance of me from October 69. Deliberately I had changed directions half a dozen times and even rode back over my own tracks twice. They better have a damn good tracker or it was going to take them a while to get to the claim. I pointed the horse along the quickest route, confident that if I didn’t beat them I wouldn’t be far behind them.Darkness stopped me. Checking the saddlebags I was grateful to find a small bag of coffee and a battered old pot, and a bit of jerky. I’d be all right until I got back to the claim. Thinking of Elsa’s cooking made the jerky even less flavorful.There was nothing for breakfast so I was packed and ready to go as soon as daylight hit. I cussed a little when I got to the blue spruce. Apparently they had a pretty good tracker and my rambling hadn’t fooled him any. They had figured it out and dragged it to the side, leaving the trail for anyone to see. Judging by the tracks I couldn’t be more than an hour behind them.I caught up to them just as they were topping the ridge and they had.
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