The rock face below her was by no means sheer or completely vertical, but she had a commanding view nonetheless. Unfortunately, she didn’t see any sign of the man she knew had to be lying in wait somewhere down there. She 177
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crawled on, ignoring the rocks that cut and bruised her elbows, until she finally caught a glimpse of Meade. He was less than a dozen yards below her, crouched on a ledge.
Rayna moved on, knowing that the would-be robber had to be somewhere ahead of Meade, and finally she saw him. He was stretched out as flat as a lizard, and Rayna might have assumed he was napping if she hadn’t seen the movement of the rifle he had trained on the mouth of the pass.
Obviously he expected his quarry to arrive at any second, and considering the length of time Meade and Rayna had spent stalking their assassins, he was probably even beginning to worry that something had gone awry.
She drew her Colt, and her assumption was confirmed when the man suddenly propped himself up and looked up at the cliff opposite him. Rayna followed the direction of his gaze, but saw nothing until the man called out,
“Damn it, Hobie, you seen anything from up there yet?”
The words echoed off the canyon walls, and a moment later a ragged gray hat popped up from behind a boulder on a wide ledge. “No, I ain’t,” came the barely discernible hushed reply. “And I won’t, neither, if you don’t shet up.”
Gray Hat ducked back down, and the Lizard stretched out again. Trying to figure out what to do next, Rayna glanced at Meade and saw him looking around, obviously trying to determine where the second voice had come from. He was well above Lizard’s hiding place, which led Rayna to conclude that he had probably gotten a glimpse of the bushwhacker and had been trying to get above him.
Unfortunately, Meade’s ledge had ended, and the only way off it was to go back or climb higher.
With so many crags and boulders, nooks and turns, it was hard for Rayna to judge whether or not Gray Hat would be able to see Meade when he began climbing. Calling out a warning to him would only betray both of them, so she remained quiet and worked her way along the mesa until she had a little better view of Gray Hat’s hiding place. His hat and part of his shoulder were all she could see, but it was enough for the time being.
But what should she do next? She knew she could easily kill the Lizard with one shot, but could she live with the knowledge that she’d murdered a man in cold blood? No, she couldn’t see herself as a back-shooter. In fact, she had to wonder if she could kill a man at all. Since she’d never been in a situation remotely similar to this one, it was a moral and ethical question she’d never been forced to face. She had always assumed that if a time came when she had to defend herself or someone she loved, she could do it without a second thought.
But principle was considerably different from reality, she discovered.
A clatter of rocks echoed loudly down the cliff, and Rayna’s heart leapt into her throat as she looked for Meade. He had gained solid footing on a 178
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shelf above the Lizard, but the cost was going to be too high. Lizard scrambled to his knees, raising his rifle as he frantically searched for the source of the disturbance, and Gray Hat cautiously peered over his boulder.
“Throw the rifle into the gorge!” Meade shouted, his revolver trained steadily on the man beneath him.
“Now, lookee here—” Lizard said indignantly, but Meade cut him off.
“Do it or you’re dead!”
“All right, all right.” Reluctantly the Lizard held the rifle out over the ledge and released it. It clattered on the rocks and then was silent.
“Now your gun belt,” Meade instructed.
“See here, mister, you ain’t got no call—”
“Do it!” he roared.
Considering the circumstances, Lizard’s protestations were laughable, but Rayna wasn’t amused. As soon as Meade had spoken, Gray Hat had disappeared. Assuming that he was crawling around the cluster of boulders to get a better shot at Meade, she scrambled back the way she’d come, frantically searching for a glimpse of him.
She heard Meade order Lizard to drop his gun belt, but there was no time to look to see if he would comply, because Gray Hat chose that moment to come out of hiding. He rose just enough to take careful aim at Meade, and Rayna discovered that her moment of truth was at hand.
Centering him steadily in the sight of her Colt, she shouted, “No! Over here,” hoping to startle him, and that was exactly what happened. Gray Hat instinctively swiveled the rifle toward the sound of her voice, clipping off one frantic shot that thundered through the canyon. Before he could draw the hammer of his repeater or even think about ducking, Rayna pulled the trigger and Gray Hat fell back heavily.
A split second later another shot rang out, and she looked down to find that the Lizard had used her distraction to draw on Meade. He wasn’t successful. Meade’s bullet caught him square in the chest, and he went toppling into the ravine.
Trying to forget the fact that she’d just killed a man, she glanced at Meade just as he looked up and spotted her head and shoulders leaning out over the cliff. They watched each other for a full minute, letting the heat of the moment pass, and then Meade shook his head.
“I thought I told you to stay back where it was safe,” he said without rancor.
“Aren’t you glad I don’t know how to take orders?”
His smile started slowly, but by the time it was completely formed, it was magnificent. “Very glad.” He glanced across the serrated edge of the cliff.
“Now, how the hell do you plan to get down from there?”
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15
Repressing the chill that ran down her spine, Rayna peered into the darkness beyond the golden circle of light from the campfire. Five horses were tethered out there, and she could barely make out the blanket-wrapped bodies strapped over the saddles of two of them.
She was keenly aware of their presence, though. Over the years, she had heard Consayka’s people talk about the ghost sickness that afflicted anyone who stayed too long around the body or property of someone who had died.
She hadn’t understood the superstition until now. Gray Hat’s malevolent spirit was out there somewhere, watching her, pointing an accusing finger.
After the brief, intense confrontation, she and Meade had carefully made their way back down the cliffs. Rayna had gone back for their own horses while Meade searched for those of their would-be assailants. By the time she returned, Meade had wrapped the Lizard in his own bedroll, secured his body to a horse, and started climbing the cliff to retrieve Gray Hat’s body.
The men’s personal effects told them nothing. Who they were and why they had set their sights on Meade and Rayna were mysteries that might never be solved. But it really wasn’t important. Knowing their names, where 180
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they came from, and whether or not they had families wouldn’t change the fact that Rayna had killed a man.
The day had taken a terrible toll on her, and she knew she should try to sleep. Her bedroll was already laid out by the fire, but she couldn’t imagine being able to rest—not with Gray Hat’s ghost keeping watch over the camp.
“Here, drink this,” Meade said, handing her a cup of coffee that he had liberally laced with whiskey.