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was colder later on, so I got the two robes from the floor and handed one of them to Dr. Favor. He took it and his wife spread it out so it would cover Frank Braden too. I unfolded the other robe for our seat. There was the soft clicking sound of the McLaren girl’s beads as she raised her hands. She gathered the end of the robe close to her, wedging it against her leg and not offering any of it to John Russell. I even had the feeling she had moved closer to me, but I wasn’t sure.
    I heard Dr. Favor say something to his wife; the sound not the words. She told him not to be silly. I asked the McLaren girl if she was comfortable. She said, yes, thank you. Mostly though, no one spoke. It was a lot colder and the canvas curtains, thatwere all the way down now, would be flat one minute, then snap and billow out with the wind and through the opening you could see the darkness and shapes now and then going by alongside the road.
    Frank Braden had eased lower in the seat and his head was very close to Mrs. Favor’s. He said something to her, a low murmur. She laughed, not out loud, almost to herself, but you could hear it. Her head moved to his and she said one word or maybe a couple. Their faces were close together for a long time, maybe even touching, and yet her husband was right there. Figure that one out.
     
    We came in to Delgado’s Station with the slowing, braking sound of the coach coming off the slope that stretched out toward a wall of trees and the adobes that showed faintly against the trees. The coach kept rolling slower and slower and slower, with the sound of the horses getting clear and heavy, and finally we stopped. We sat there in silence and when Mrs. Favor said, “Where are we?” in just a whisper, it sounded loud inside that coach in the darkness. No one answered until we heard Henry Mendez outside.
    “Delgado!” he yelled.
    Then close on it came the sound of his steps and the door opened. “Delgado’s Station,” Mendezsaid. He stood there holding his leather bag. Beyond him, a man was coming out of the adobe carrying a lantern.
    “Mendez?” The man raised the lantern.
    “Who else?” Mendez said. “You still got horses?”
    “For a few more days,” Delgado, the station-master, answered.
    “Change them for these.”
    “You got a stage?”
    “A long story,” Mendez said. “Get your woman to make coffee.”
    Delgado was frowning. He wore pants with striped suspenders over his underwear. “How do I know you’re coming?”
    “Just move your people,” Mendez said. He turned to the coach again. “You wash at the bench by the door. You follow the path around back for other things.” He offered his hand and Mrs. Favor got out. Then the McLaren girl.
    “Twice in one night,” Delgado said. “An hour ago we are in bed and three men come by.”
    “You should have stayed up,” Mendez said.
    Mr. Favor was just getting out of the coach. “Did you know them?” he asked.
    “Some riders.”
    “But did you know them?”
    Delgado looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I think they work for Mr. Wolgast.”
    “Is that usual,” Dr. Favor said, “them coming by this time of night?”
    “Man, it happens,” Delgado said. “People go by here.”
    By the time I went around back and came out again, just Mendez and Russell were standing there. Mendez took a bottle that looked like brandy out of his leather bag and both of them had a long drink.
    Two boys, in shirts and pants but barefooted, came out of the adobe. Both of them smiled at Mendez and one of them called, “Hey, Tio, what have you got?”
    “Something for your grease pails,” Mendez said, “and the need of clean horses.” The boys ran off again, around the adobe, and Mendez turned to John Russell again.
    “How do you like a mud wagon?”
    Russell said something in Spanish.
    “How do you like it in English?” Mendez said.
    “That again,” Russell said.
    “Practice, uh? Then you get good.”
    “Maybe if I don’t speak it’s