After that the tracks bore straight for the northwest, so unerringly that Augustus soon found he didn't need to pay much attention to them. Gus's death, and the ones before it, had caused him to lose his sense of purpose to such an extent that he scarcely cared from one day to the next what he was doing. She looked for it to go bad in some way, but it didn't go bad. He ran one way and then the other for a while, thinking there might be two identical boulders--that the horse might still be there.
For a moment the only sound in the camp was the jingle of a bit as the woman's horse slung its head. But her brain wouldn't stop--only Gus could distract it with talk and card games. Them punkin' rollers, Dan Suggs said contemptuously. Once he looked back and could still see the wagons grouped around the little store.
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