They rode past the holding-pens, the lowing of the densely packed cattle sounding like a desert wind, and turned onto Main Street. ‘Things haven’t changed much,’ Gabriel said. ‘Cattle still stink an’ most of ’em still wear a Double SS brand.’ ‘And Santa Rosa still owes its existence to Stadtlander’s money,’ Ellen reminded him. ‘Including – no, especially – the law.’ Gabriel grunted. ‘If you’re tryin’ to scare me into changing my mind, Ellie, it ain’t workin’.’ As they made their way between the oncoming buckboards and other riders, Gabriel realized little had changed during his five-year absence. Main Street was still unpaved and rutted by heavy freight wagons; and though the boardwalks had recently been widened, allowing people to pass one another without bumping shoulders, the hotels, cantinas, stores, livery stables, law offices and barbershops lining them still looked familiar. Unfortunately, he hadn’t changed much either.
