Ford glared at the hot sun. After traveling for a month away from he mines, he was exhausted.
His fear that the Boss would demand Martin's things, and then would somehow discover what Ford had taken, had overwhelmed him. He'd snuck out the night before Martin was to be officially declared dead.
No one had caught him, though with his crutch he was both slow and conspicuous. He had no way of knowing whether the Boss hadn't sent anyone after him or if they simply didn't try very hard to catch someone who had saved lives.
As Ford hobbled across the flats, he regretted his decision to leave very much. He had not had enough money for a horse, nor accommodations, nor a full set of camping supplies. Martin's money that had seemed so abundant at first didn't go nearly as far as Ford thought.
