“I wasn’t listening,” Bowen said.
Brazil grinned. “That would be some sight.”
They went down to the shelf again as Renda and a guard brought up the convicts to do the grading. Bowen looked over the edge. There were still two guards down in the canyon. So he’s got another man on, Bowen thought. One of the night guards.
“That one took more slope,” Renda said. “They hardly got any chipping off to do.”
“We tried a bigger charge,” Bowen told him. “Packing more sticks to the bundle.”
“You go any bigger, we’ll be filling in,” Renda said. His gaze moved along the edge of the shelf, then stopped. Unexpectedly, Bowen saw his face become tensed. He followed Renda’s gaze up canyon and saw a rider moving along the stretch of new road. Now all of them were watching and soon they saw that it was Lizann Falvey.
Brazil said, “What’s she doing up here?”
Renda continued to watch her, his eyes half closed in the sun glare. A swirl of wind blew dust at him, fanning his hatbrim, but he did not turn away from it.
“I never saw her up this far,” Brazil said.
She bothers him, Bowen thought, still watching Renda. All she has to do is show herself and he’s on his guard. You thought it once. Maybe she’s threatening him. Confident she’s leaving and she throws it in his face. Tells him everything but how.
Following Lizann, trailing her perhaps fifty yards, was a Mimbreño. Bowen watched him move off to the east side of the canyon. Lizann had circled and now was riding back toward him, past him, becoming smaller, and soon she was out of sight. But even after she was gone, Renda continued to stare up canyon and a moment later he moved down the shelf.
That’s good, Bowen thought. Give him something else to think about.
Bowen indicated where the next charge would be placed before they moved back up onto the rim. And now they got ready the fuses and the dynamite cartridges they would use.
“I think I’ll light the next one,” Brazil said.
“That’s all you got to do,” Bowen said, “and you’re a dynamite man.”
Brazil was studying his Winchester. “It’s a far size bigger than this.”
Bowen looked toward Manring and nodded. Manring rose, picking up his shovel and started for the draw.
Brazil’s head came up. “They’re not ready for you yet.”
“Earl’s got another job,” Bowen said. He rose as Brazil did and walked over to the edge of the draw. “He’s going to dig that corner where we tested yesterday.”
Brazil frowned. “What for?”
“After a couple of more blasts,” Bowen explained, “we’ll be far enough down to come back to the part we skipped. Earl thought he’d get it ready now if it’s all right with you.”
“Frank know about it?”
“Ask him,” Bowen said. He turned and walked back to Pryde.
Brazil glanced at Manring. “Go on. I’ll see him later.” He squatted then at the edge of the draw where he could watch Bowen and Pryde, to his left, and Manring below and to his right.
“The first step,” Pryde murmured.
Bowen sat down with his back to Brazil. The detonator boxes were in front of him. He raised one box, then another, and raising the third one he felt the weight of the Colt revolver. He lined up the boxes and placed this one on the right.
Now he studied the dark mass of pines that were forty or fifty yards in front of him and he began setting a fuse into the open end of a detonator.
“Ike, have you seen Mimbres?”
“For about a hair of a minute. When we first came up.”
“We have to figure six on this side,” Bowen said. “They don’t like what’s going on, so they stay back in the trees.”
“What would we do if they didn’t mind it?”
“Think of something else.”
“And six more on the other side of the canyon,” Pryde said.
“We’ll think of them when the time comes,” Bowen said. He crimped the open end of the detonator to the fuse. He unwrapped one end of the dynamite cartridge, pushed a twig into it to form an opening, then inserted a detonator.
“How many you going to do?” Pryde asked.
“We’ll have five ready,” Bowen said. “Maybe we won’t use that many, but we’ll have them.”
“Brazil wants to light the fuse,” Pryde said. “It’d be purely simple to leave him with it.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I can’t help it. It’s too good not to.”
“Ike, we do it the way I said.”
“I know it. I was just talking.”
Bowen had attached the fuse to the fourth detonator and was inserting it into the cartridge when Brazil called to him. “Earl says he’s ready.”
Rising, Bowen said to Pryde, “Like he works for us.” He picked up a coil of fuse and a detonator and moved down the draw. Pryde followed, a half-full case of dynamite on his shoulder.
Brazil said, “What’re you in such a hurry to plant this one for?”
Bowen dropped the coil, but held an end of it. “Might as well do it now as later.”
“You sure Frank knows about it?”
“Go ask him,” Bowen said. He saw Brazil’s gaze go down into the canyon.
“Frank would’ve told me,” Brazil said.
“He tells you everything?”
Brazil did not answer. He was studying the small figures far below. He said then, “I don’t see him.”
Now the four of them looked down into the canyon. Almost at once Pryde said, “That’s him…riding off. Way up the road there.”
“Like he’s going back to camp,” Manring said. He looked at Brazil. “Everybody works but Frank.”
“You dig your hole,” Brazil snapped. “And keep your mouth shut.”
“It’s dug.”
“Then plant the charge!”
That’s it, Bowen thought. Get mad. Get your mind on something else.
When they climbed out of the draw again, a ten-foot length of fuse hung curling to the ground from the hole where the charge was buried. The hole had been dug above the undercut of their test blast of the previous day. It was approximately five feet from the ground.
“When you going to light it?” Brazil asked Bowen.
“I figure sometime this afternoon.”
Brazil’s gaze found the four dynamite sticks with fuses already attached. “You’re doing a damn awful lot of work beforehand.”
“What difference does it make when we do it? Long as it gets done.”
“Maybe I ought to ask you that,” Brazil said.
Bowen shrugged. “Pull the detonators out if you don’t want them there. We’ll walk off about a half mile and watch you.”
Bowen turned from him. He went over to the equipment, sat down next to Pryde and began fitting a fuse end into the fifth detonator, thinking, now watching Brazil wander to the edge of the draw: Don’t push him too far.
Manring stopped next to Bowen. “Are we ready?”
“As ready as we’ll ever be.”
“How much did you plant just now?”
“Twenty pounds.”
“Is that enough?”
“I’d have to set more if it wasn’t.”
“We got to be sure.”
“What do you want to do,” Bowen said, “light it now and find out?”
Manring’s hand scratched nervously at his beard. “We got to be sure, that’s all.”
Pryde got to his feet. They saw him stare off toward the pass that was beyond the end of the canyon. Then Brazil noticed him, hearing the hoof sounds at the same time. “Sit down,” he told Pryde, and swung the Winchester toward the pass.
As he did, Karla Demery appeared in the shadowed opening. She looked up, showing surprise at seeing them, then walked her horse toward them.
Her gaze moved from Bowen and the two men next to him to Brazil. “I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”
“We’re full of surprises,” Brazil grinned. He saw her move to dismount. “Sit where you are. I got enough to watch without a horse standing by.”
“I wanted to see if these men had any letters,” Karla said. Her hand was behind her on the saddlebag, unfastening the strap.
“Give them to Frank,” Brazil said.
“It’ll only take a minute.” Karla brought out the letters, began going through them, then glanced at Bowen again. “Isn’t your name Bowen?”