Why would anyone want such a large house? His brother Tom was standing at his horse’s head, pouring the last of his precious canteen water into his Stetson for the tired horse to drink. Tom had been silent for a long time now. Whatever thoughts were passing through his brain, he was keeping them private. Whit slid off his saddle on to the soft ground and copied his brother’s actions. The horse could have his fill of the water as long as he still had some tequila left in his last bottle, Whit thought. Tom Hardy watched as his kid brother watered the nag and drank the blinding clear liquor at the same time. He knew that it was his tequila Whit gulped, but he no longer gave a damn. Sober or drunk, the situation was the same to Tom. They had run out of supplies and water, and the only place they could get fresh provisions was the hacienda before them. The hacienda that the tracks of their prey Iron Eyes led right into. It was not the way he had planned it. The Apache had screwed everything into the ground.
