He was a half-hour of slow riding away from the clearing and guessed that soon he would reach another hillbilly homestead. Was aware, also, of the possibility that at any moment he was likely to hear Will and Jesse Gershel and however many men they had rounded up coming down the trail. Three or four hours, the elder Gershel had said, before he and his neighbours would return to the house. It was already more than two since he and his son had left. The trail and the river had looped away from each other, with a rocky butte intervening. The timber was more sparse in this section of the valley and Gold paid close attention to the way ahead and the terrain to either side. Whatever version of the events at the logger’s place the sniper told his neighbours, the men were sure to ride hell for leather to the Gershel homestead. To make sure Martha and the girl were not harmed. And Barnaby Gold wanted to see them before they spotted him in this much more open country. Then the trail and river converged again and his aim was achieved The butte came to an abrupt end at a point where a natural arch of eroded rock spanned the trail.
