At dawn they discovered the first dead horse.
It lay in a narrow wash half a mile from camp.
No rider.
Mara dismounted.
Elias followed.
A saddle remained strapped to the animal.
“That horse was shot,” he said.
Mara crouched beside the tracks.
“Yesterday.”
“You recognize it?”
“No.”
She studied the ground.
“Three riders stopped here. One horse fell. Two continued.”
“Which direction?”
She looked up the canyon.
“The same direction we are going.”
Elias swore.
They mounted and rode hard.
By midmorning, clouds gathered over the western peaks.
Not rain clouds.
Dust.
Wind screamed through the canyon gaps.
Mara led him away from the main trail toward a steep incline where barely enough earth existed for horses to climb.
Bishop stumbled twice.
“Easy,” Elias murmured.
The trail narrowed.
To their right, the mountainside rose nearly vertical.
To their left waited several hundred feet of empty air.
Mara did not slow.
“Is this the high trail?”
“Yes.”
“You could’ve lied.”
“About what?”
“Calling it a trail.”
She looked back.
“Scared?”
“Reasonably.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Fearful men pay attention.”
They climbed another hundred yards.
Then Mara stopped.
Her rifle appeared in her hands.
Elias saw the problem a moment later.
A man sat on horseback above them.
Black coat.
Gray hat.
Rifle across his saddle.
“Mercer!” the man called.
Elias recognized the voice.
Silas Rourke.
Continental Western’s chief security man.
A former cavalry scout who had discovered that corporations paid better than governments for the same willingness to kill.
“Silas.”
“Been a long ride chasing you.”
“I’d apologize, but you look like you needed exercise.”
Rourke smiled.
Two more men appeared behind him.
Mara whispered, “Three.”
“There’ll be others below.”
“How many?”
“Silas never travels with fewer than six.”
Rourke raised his voice.
“Give me the satchel, Mercer.”
“And then?”
“You ride home.”
“You promise?”
“I do.”
Elias looked at Mara.
She shook her head.
He called upward.
“My friend says you’re lying.”
Rourke studied Mara.
“You found yourself a little mountain bride?”
Elias saw Mara’s expression go cold.
“Silas.”
“What?”
“Careful.”
Rourke laughed.
Mara lifted her rifle.
She fired.
The bullet struck the rock beside Rourke’s horse.
The animal reared violently.
Rourke cursed and fought the reins.
Elias stared at Mara.
“You missed.”
“No.”
A slab of stone cracked loose beneath Rourke’s horse.
The ledge collapsed.
Not enough to send horse or rider over the edge, but enough to block the narrow approach in an explosion of dust.
“Ride!” Mara shouted.
They drove their horses forward.
Gunfire cracked behind them.
A bullet struck stone near Elias’s head.
Another ripped through the rolled blanket on Bishop’s saddle.
The high trail curved around the mountain.
They vanished from Rourke’s line of sight.
Mara pointed toward a narrow gap.
“There!”
They pushed through.
The trail descended sharply into a maze of sandstone formations.
For ten minutes they rode without stopping.
Finally Mara pulled up beneath a cliff.
Elias looked behind them.
Nothing.
“You planned that?”
“The rock?”
“Yes.”
“I noticed the crack yesterday.”
“You came through here yesterday?”
“Three days ago.”
“You could’ve mentioned that.”
“You talk enough for both of us.”
Despite himself, Elias grinned.
Then Mara’s smile disappeared.
Blood stained her sleeve.
“Mara.”
“It is nothing.”
“You’re hit.”
“Grazed.”
He dismounted immediately.
“So did your blanket.”
“My blanket doesn’t bleed.”
She tried to move away.
He caught her wrist gently.
“Let me see.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Ask.”
Elias released her instantly.
The lesson landed.
“May I?”
Mara looked at him for several seconds.
Then nodded.
The bullet had cut along the outside of her upper arm. Painful, bloody, but shallow.
Elias cleaned the wound with water.
Mara watched his hands.
“You are careful.”
“I’ve been shot before.”
“That does not make you a doctor.”
“It makes me opinionated about bandages.”
She almost laughed.
Then she winced.
He tied the cloth securely.
“There.”
Mara flexed her arm.
“Acceptable.”
“High praise.”
She met his eyes.
They were closer than either had realized.
For a moment the canyon vanished.
No railroad.
No gunmen.
No mission.
Just sunlight catching the loose strands of her hair.
Elias stepped back first.
“We should move.”
Mara looked away.
“Yes.”
