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'Twelve, actually. Shall I give you names?"
He didn't glance at her. He was afraid that if he did, he'd punch her. "No."
"Joe Martin is the leader."
"So you've said." He pulled his hat back low on his brow. "We're gonna have to race for El Diablo."
"Since I never invented a place called El Diablo, I assume you're speaking metaphorically. But you're wrong. The shootout takes place at Bloody Gorge." She misinterpreted his look as interest and went on. "It's a little melodramatic, I know. Bloody Gorge. But I was getting close to deadline. Anyway, it worked fine. You died at Bloody Gorge ... in a spectacularly painful way, I might add."
"I think it's safest if you don't talk."
She gave him a wry smile. "Funny ... men often say that to me."
He didn't bother to state the obvious. "It's gonna be a hard run for the next few hours. El Diablo's a good fifteen miles from here."
"We're not going to El Diablo."
For the first time in a long time, he felt a genuine smile start. "Yeah, we are. And when we get there, I'm gonna put you in front."
The first hint of concern tugged at her full, dusty lips. She frowned at him. "Why?"
His gaze slid from her face to the huge, baggy sweater. "That red sweater'll make a nice big target."
Her frown twisted into a grimace. "Is that a crack about my weight? Because if it is?"
He let out a whoop and kicked the black hard. The stallion snorted and took off. The ground rumbled and shook as the horses surged into a gallop.
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Behind him, he heard the woman scream. The sudden movement of her horse obviously knocked the wind from her lungs, because for a moment?a blessed second?it was quiet.
Then the cursing began again.
Chapter Seven
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"I have to stop. Goddamn it, I have to stop!" Lainie tried to scream the words at the top of her lungs, but all that made it past her parched, sunburned lips was a feeble, throaty croak. She leaned back and sawed mercilessly on the reins. Her horse snorted and tossed its head, slowing for a few steps, then surging forward again.
Lainie landed back in her seat so hard that for a moment she couldn't breathe. She opened her mouth and sucked in a lungful of dry, searingly hot air.
Killian stopped suddenly. The other three horses dropped down to a trot and then halted, snorting and wheezing from the long run.
Lainie reached back for her canteen and tried to untie the leather straps, but her fingers were so sore, she couldn't will them to function.
"It's too quiet." Killian glanced around.
Lainie noticed it, too. She looked around. In the distance, the sun was just inches above the horizon, a huge, brilliant orange ball suspended in a violet sky. Miles of copper red earth and faded sagebrush fanned out to their left; to their right was a steep, tree-strewn hill. Behind lay the winding, twisting canyon that led nowhere. In front of them was a three-hundred-foot stone cliff, its face striated with layers of gold and
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red and gray. Shadows of the coming night slashed across it.
It was quiet out here. Creepy ...
Lainie shivered and hugged herself. All day there had been noise in the desert: the echoing heartbeat of hooves, the clatter of small stones as they tumbled down hillsides, the cant of the animals' breath.
