There was no way in hell he could stop Geraldine from going after her husband’s killers short of hitting her over the head and hog-tying her, and even then, once she freed herself she’d be right back at it. The smart thing, he reckoned, was to keep her close so he could keep an eye on her and maybe keep her safe. They had been on the go for over an hour, and he still hadn’t revealed that the bushwhackers were women. There was no predicting how she’d react. She was smart enough to know that caution was called for when tangling with Apaches. But other women? She might charge off to confront them. Just then Geraldine cleared her throat. “I have a question.” Fargo grunted. “I’m not a tracker. I can’t read sign like you do.” Geraldine motioned at the tracks they were following. “But I’m not stupid, either. And unless I’m badly mistaken, the horses we’re following are all shod.”
