«It was my ambush this time,» Reno said finally. «Not theirs.»
A ragged sigh was Eve’s only answer.
«It will be a while before they come asking for more,» he continued. «We better hope it isn’t too long, though.»
«Why?»
«Water,» he said succinctly. «This canyon is stone dry.»
EVE looked up anxiously as Reno rode back in from his short exploration of the tributary canyon. The grim line of his mouth told her that he hadn’t discovered anything useful.
«Dry,» he said.
She waited.
«And blind,» he added.
«What?»
«It’s a dead end.»
«How far ahead?»
«Maybe two miles,» Reno said.
Eve looked down the narrow wash where Slater’s men waited for their quarry.
«They need water, too,» she pointed out.
«One man can lead a lot of horses to water. The rest will stay put, waiting for us to get thirsty enough to do something stupid.»
«Then we’ll just have to get past them.»
Reno’s smile wasn’t comforting.
«All in all,» he said, «I’d rather take my chances on climbing the head wall of the canyon than get caught in that kind of a cross fire.»
Eve looked beyond Reno to the stone wall that piled layer on layer to the sky.
«What about the horses?» she asked.
«We’ll have to turn them loose.»
What Reno didn’t say was that a man on foot in a dry land didn’t have much chance of surviving. But as small as that chance was, it was better than the odds of successfully running a gauntlet of Slater’s guns through the narrow canyon.
«Let’s go,» Reno said. «We only get thirstier from now on.»
Eve didn’t argue. Already her mouth was dry. She could imagine the thirst of the mustangs, who had run an obstacle course through the hot canyon.
«You first,» Reno said. «Then the packhorses.»
The dry stream bed narrowed until it was little more than a sculpted, water-smoothed opening snaking through solid stone. Overhead, the clouds flowed together and thickened into a turbulent lid over the dry land. Thunder rolled distantly, following invisible lightning.
Reno saw Eve glance longingly at the clouds.
«You better pray it doesn’t rain,» he said.
«Why?»
He gestured to the canyon wall that was only inches beyond his outstretched hand.
«See that line?» he asked.
«Yes. I’ve been wondering what it was.»
«High-water mark.»
Eve’s eyes widened. She looked at the line that ran the length of the canyon well above their heads. Then she looked back at Reno.
«Where does it all come from?» she asked.
«Up on the plateau. During big storms, rain comes down faster than it can sink in. And in some places, it can’t sink in at all. So it just runs off all at once. In these slot canyons, it gets real deep real fast.»
«What a country,» Eve said. «Eat sand or drown.»
The corner of Reno’s mouth lifted slightly. «I’ve come close to both, one time or another.»
Yet he had never had his tail in quite as tight a crack as he did right now — a dead end ahead, outlaws behind, and thirst in between.
Silently Reno examined the walls of the side canyon where he and Eve were trapped. Something about the rock layers nagged at his mind.
«Pull up,» he said to Eve.
She reined in and looked over her shoulder. Reno was sitting with both hands on the saddle horn, studying the narrow little canyon as though he had never seen anything quite so interesting in his life.
After a minute Reno urged the blue roan forward, squeezed past the two Shaggies and Eve’s dun to the tiny slot canyon he had discovered on his first reconnoiter up the canyon. He had dismissed the slot as a runoff channel. But now he thought he might have been too hasty.
«Is your shotgun loaded?» Reno asked.
«Yes.»
«Ever used a six-gun?» he asked.
«Sometimes. I can’t hit the side of the barn with one at much over thirty feet.»
Reno turned and looked at Eve. The smile he gave her made her realize all over again what a good-looking man he was.
«Don’t worry, gata. No barns will be sneaking up on us.»
Eve laughed.
Reno pulled out his second six-gun and removed one bullet from the revolving cylinder before he put the weapon back in the bandolier.
«Here,» he said, handing the bandolier to Eve. «The firing pin is on an empty chamber, so you’ll have to pull the trigger twice to fire.»
The bandolier fit Eve the way a greatcoat fits a child. When Reno reached forward to adjust the buckle, the back of his fingers accidentally brushed over one of her breasts. Her breath came in hard and fast. The sudden motion had the effect of brushing her breast against his hand once more. The twin touches hardened her nipple in a rush.
Reno looked up from her breast to the vivid golden eyes of the saloon girl who haunted even his dreams.
«You’re so damned alive,» Reno said almost roughly. «And you came so damned dose to dying. …»
He adjusted the bandolier as much as possible on her. Telling himself he wouldn’t, reaching for her even as he told himself not to, Reno slid his hand around the nape of Eve’s neck. He pulled her toward him as he leaned down.
«I’m going to check out that slot canyon,» he said against her lips. «Keep an eye on the back trail while I’m gone.»
«Be careful.»
«Don’t worry. I plan to live long enough to enjoy every last bit of what I won in the Gold Dust Saloon — and that includes you.»
The kiss Reno gave Eve was like lightning, hot and untamed, striking to her core, lasting only an instant.
Then Reno was gone, leaving her with his taste on her lips, his hunger racing in her blood, and his words shivering through her, warning and promise in one.
I plan to live long enough to enjoy every last bit of what I won in the Gold Dust Saloon — and that includes you.
12
A few hours later, Eve, Reno, and the horses were still scrambling up layer after layer of stone, following a precarious way out of the blind canyon. Many times the passage threatened to vanish against one cliff or another, stranding them, but it never did.
Not quite.
«Don’t look down.»
Reno’s order was unnecessary. Eve wouldn’t have looked down if someone had held a gun at her head. In fact, she might have considered being shot a blessing, if it meant that she would never again have to lead a mustang along an eyebrow trail high above the canyon floor.
«Are you sure you’re all right?» Reno asked.
Eve didn’t answer. She didn’t have any energy to spare for words. She was too busy staring at her feet, willing herself not to stumble.
The coarse grain of the sandstone was engraved on Eve’s mind. She was certain the texture of it would inhabit her nightmares for years to come. Pebbles the size and shape of marbles were scattered all over the surface of the ledge, ready to send a careless foot sliding and skidding.
The mustangs had little difficulty with the trail. They had four feet. If one slipped, there were three to take its place. Eve had nothing but her hands, which were already sore from catching herself the last time she had tripped.
«See the white rock ahead?» Reno asked encouragingly. «That means we’re getting closer to the lip of the plateau.»
«Hallelujah,» Eve whispered.
The lineback dun snorted and jerked her head down to rub off a pesky fly.
Eve barely stifled a scream as the reins yanked at her hand, threatening her precarious balance.
«It’s all right,» Reno said in a low, calm voice.
The hell it is.
But Eve didn’t have the breath to waste on contradicting Reno aloud.
«That was just a fly bothering your horse,» he said. «Put the reins over her neck. She’ll follow you without being led.»