The negotiations had required Old Hugh to talk for two days and had left him hoarse. She only sent them in once a day to bathe his face, hoping that the sight of them would bring him out of his state. All he knew about the sheriff was that Jake Spoon had run from him, which wasn't much to go on. Finally the cattle slowed, and Mouse slowed, and Newt just plodded along, occasionally wiping the grasshoppers off the front of his shirt when they got two or three layers deep.
Old Dog seemed to have an affinity for Deets and followed him right into the water without so much as stopping to sniff. They were not much interested in the fact that a wagon had pulled up. His hair was white--Clara had never been able to get his age out of him, but she imagined he was seventy-five at least, perhaps eighty. Jake's momentary optimism had passed, and he felt tired and despairing.
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