Trees-Too-Tall told Venice. He waited for her reply from atop his pony. Venice, standing on the boardwalk outside the Gold dust, blinked up at him through the fine mist. She didn’t know what to say. “We will wait inside the trees.” Trees-too-Tall pointed to one of the trail heads leading out of the valley. “Reed must come soon or we will leave without him.” “He’ll be here,” Venice promised, hoping she was right. Trees-Too-High kicked his pony forward. “Aren’t you going to take the pack animals?” she asked. “McCaneaghy wants to put somethin’ on ‘em,” he said, moving past her. “You and Reed bring ‘em.” McCaneaghy wants, thought Venice bitterly. So what? She slung her satchel up behind her mule’s saddle. The animal stood patiently, enduring the steady beat of cold rain. It looked as miserable as she felt. She tugged her wide-brimmed felt hat lower over her forehead and twisted her woolen scarf tighter around her neck.
