On their way back out to the abandoned wagons north of the old rail tracks, Tuco and his men rode like Death himself was after them. Dust plumed upward into the wind and shifted to the East as they brought their horses to a standstill.
The desiccated corpses of the rival gang still lay scattered around the empty wagons. A grim smile lit upon Tuco’s face. Those yacks had fallen like a stack of chips in a bad game of Faro and snatching those China girls had been easy work. The smile fell from Tuco’s when they found Wallace’s carcass keeping the water buffalo company.
It was that sonk Cole who found her dusty boot prints mixed in with the wheel ruts from their wagons. He let the fool lead the way as they followed the trail into the plains. Once they came within sight of the villa, her boot prints disappeared on the rock face. No hide nor hair of her was to be found close by.
“Boys!” Tuco shouted. “Get a wiggle on and find me that devil of a sister, now!
As his men scoured out in search of any sign of her, he kicked back and watched for anything on the horizon that caught his eye. He felt more than heard one of his men riding back.
“You find anything Boone?” Tuco grunted.
Boone wiped the dust from his face, “I found Virgil. He, Sam and a couple others are lying in the road to the mining camp. They’ve uh, all been shot up.”
“The wagon’s there too?”
Boone pulled his hat low, “Tracks stop at the bodies but then cut back.”
Anger twisted at Tuco’s eyes. That nun was making a habit of being in all the wrong places and leaving the dead in her wake. Just then a plume of dust far to the East caught his eye and a wolfish grin lit his face.
“Call the boy’s back, Boone. We’re going hunting.”