The Kid tapped a spread map of New Mexico. “One of the biggest payrolls ever bound for Fort Whipple is coming out of Santa Fe, and …” He explained to Mollie and her father that since the Fort Whipple payroll usually came out of Phoenix, there would be only the driver and one soldier riding shotgun with the Santa Fe shipment. “On the first leg of the journey—from Santa Fe to Albuquerque—there will be no extra guards,” the Kid concluded. “When?” asked Cordell Rogers. “The shipment leaves Santa Fe on the Overland stage the morning of October twentieth.” “Only eight days,” said Rogers and downed a large swallow of whiskey. “We better leave tomorrow,” he said, hoping he’d feel better by then. Hoping that the persistent weakness he hadn’t mentioned to Mollie or the Kid would be gone. “You’re the boss, Colonel,” said the Kid pointedly. By morning, Cordell Rogers was feeling worse. Much worse. He was too sick to go on the raid, and Mollie refused to go without him.
