"I don't think so. How come you keep ending up in the same place I'm at?"
"How come you keep ending up in the same place I'm at?" he shot back.
Isabel sat straighter, glaring ahead at the terrain—the same terrain they seemed destined both to cover. Now why in the hell was that? There had to be a reason. The only person who knew this country like the back of his hand was…
John faced her. "You know Duster Hobson?"
Quizzically, her eyes widened. "You know Duster Hobson?"
"I just asked that. And I'm still waiting for your answer."
"I know him. He was at the Blossom when I was…" The sentence trailed off.
John grew unexplainably angry. Had she acquainted herself with Duster as well as Newt?
"Why do you want to know?" she questioned.
"When Duster's not at the Blossom, he's at the Republic." Were his words as peppered as he thought, or had he imagined jealousy oozed from his tone?
"Well, now that we got that straight—what does knowing Duster have to do with us both being here?"
"I think you know the answer to that"
"Do I?"
"Duster talks a lot."
"Yes, he does. About the landscape."
"Got that right. He used to hold up stages in these parts."
"He did?"
"Hell yes. Why do you think he knows the landscape?"
"I assumed he knew it because he used to drill for oil… and came up dry all the time. That's why they call him Duster."
"That reputation came a long time after he gave up his illegal ways."
"Why… I never would have figured Duster for an outlaw. He's just too sweet."
John grew annoyed by the way she stuck up for the old man. "Well, some people can lead a surprising life. And Duster's one of them. He goes on and on about this rock cut and that creek—"
"—this ridge and that ravine…"
"Where white alder grows and where purple sage is thickest."
Isabel nodded. "And where black sage is compact or junipers are the tallest." She gave an audible sigh. "Rigby Glen."
He knew the spot—the next logical place to search for hollies if a man… or a woman… had been listening to Duster go on. After that—John threw up his hands in resignation. "Foster's Hideout."
"And the day after… ?" Isabel baited him, but he remained quiet.
Then after a long pause, they both said: "Moontide Ridge."
"Well, damn," John muttered.
"Damn," Isabel seconded, surprising him. "No wonder we keep stepping over each other. We both think like Duster."