They were bound by the fury of . . .
It wouldn’t be a border patrol — they didn’t run to that kind of thing out here where heat-blasted Sonora and cactus-covered Arizona fused together in the great vastness between Yuma and Nogales.
Not likely in a place where there was nothing worth stealing.
It was just possible that it was some dogged Arizona lawman on the trail of an outlaw who had done something bad enough to be taken personally — a lawman chasing after one of those no-goods who used the border to good advantage by hopping across to whichever side seemed safest.
In other words, the horseman up there could be hot on the trail of a man like Luke Clancy.