The second day.

These few days of traveling to the valley didn't feel like a few days, but like a few weeks. Supplies had been reduced, but that wasn't a problem – at least there was water and horses. After the murder of those two Mexicans, John's credibility waned, but it did not cause tension in the team. The cohesion of people was important and everyone was aware of it, including the sheriff.

Another night was restless – any sounds forced John to lie with his eyes open, despite the accumulated fatigue. It was impossible to relax in such conditions, but the sound of the crackling campfire and the endless muttering of old Chicory was slightly soothing.

With a soft sigh, John rolled over onto his back, looking up at the dark, starry sky, hidden by clouds.