It has been a slow progress dragging my pained body down from the hills. I am exhausted and hungry, but my headache has subsided to a dull throbbing. The town is stretched north to south along the valley floor, so it is no more than four blocks wide in the direction I walk. Nevertheless, it has a prosperous appearance. I pass several well-maintained, whitewashed adobe houses, a number of false-fronted stores and a respectable town hall. Only a few people note my passing. Some children briefly stop playing with their clay marbles to watch me go by, and an old Mexican nods and murmurs, “Buenos días.” Across the street from the hotel there’s a horse trough, and I go over to it, splash water on my face and fill my canteen. It’s only when I straighten up that I notice the horses tethered to the rail in front of the hotel. One of them looks wild and, as I stare, turns its head to look at me. It has a white star on its forehead. My heart skips a beat. I had assumed that Ed and the others would be miles away by now.
