whining and ricocheting off the pale stone, sending sharp chips of rock flying.
Instantly Reno returned the fire, picking targets with care, for the range was better suited to a rifle than to a six-gun. There wasn’t much cover, but the Comancheros made good use of every irregularity. They flattened themselves in the shallow basins, dove behind hardy pinon, or threw their bodies into one of the many cracks on the seamed surface of the slickrock.
Unfortunately, all except Crooked Bear were beyond the range of Reno’s six-gun. The Comanchero took a bullet in his arm, but the wound wasn’t bad. The most it would do was slow the big Indian down a bit.
Reno slithered back down the slope to Eve and pulled her to her feet.
«They’ll stay put, but not for long,» he said. «Get ready to run.»
Eve wanted to object that she couldn’t run, but a look at Reno’s jade green eyes made her change her mind. His fingers wrapped around her right arm just below the shoulder.
«Three steps, then jump,» he said.
There was no time for Eve to waver or worry. Reno was thrusting her forward. She took three running steps and jumped like a doe. He was right beside her, flying over the black channel, landing, holding her upright when her foot slipped. Seconds later they were running flat out over the slick-rock.
Eve had never moved so fast before in her life. Reno’s powerful hand was clamped around her arm, lifting her, hurtling her forward, then lifting her again the instant her feet touched the ground.
They were almost to the horses when rifle bullets began crashing and whining around them, screaming off the slickrock. Reno made no attempt to take cover. He simply tightened his grip on Eve and ran faster toward the ravine ahead. He knew their best chance of survival lay in reaching the ravine where the horses were hidden before Slater’s Comancheros reloaded their single-shot rifles.
Breath tore in and out of Eve’s lungs as she sprinted beside Reno, captive to the iron grip on her arm. Just when she thought she could run no farther, a bullet ricocheted nearby. She ran faster than before, trusting Reno to catch her if she stumbled.
Suddenly the rock sloped away beneath their feet. Together Eve and Reno skidded down the steep incline. The mustangs snorted and shied with alarm as he threw her into her saddle, vaulted onto his own horse, and headed up the ravine at a gallop.
All too soon the way began to narrow and climb steeply toward yet another slickrock terrace. Reno kept the horses pointed uphill, not stopping even when the way became so narrow that stirrups scraped against stone. Scrambling and clawing like cats, the agile mustangs climbed through stony debris.
Abruptly they were in the clear. A wide mesa opened up before them. Reno didn’t stop to congratulate himself on their good luck at not finding themselves smack up against a slickrock cliff. He spun the blue roan around and raced back to the Shaggy that carried the small barrels. He jerked one barrel free, grabbed a leather sack from the back saddle, and turned to Eve.
«I’m going to try to close the trail,» he said curtly. «Take the horses about a hundred yards up the draw and hobble them.»
She grabbed Darlin’s reins, kicked the dun, and took off up the shallow, grassy ravine that drained the plateau. The two Shaggies followed. A scant one hundred yards later, Eve threw herself off the dun, hobbled her, and ran back to Darlin’. The mustang snorted in alarm but was too tired to bite when strange hands slapped hobbles around her forelegs. The two Shaggies were already cropping grass eagerly. They were hobbled before they knew what had happened.
Eve yanked the repeating rifle out of Reno’s saddle scabbard, grabbed her own shotgun, and ran back to where Reno worked at the lip of the plateau.
«Can you see them yet?» she asked breathlessly.
He spun toward her in surprise. «What are you doing here? I told you to —»
«They’re hobbled,» Eve interrupted.
«They better be, or we’ll be afoot.»
Reno bent over the ground once more. Working quickly, he poured black powder into a second tin can.
«What are you doing?» she asked.
«Getting set to bring a chunk of slickrock down around those boys’ ears.»
The sound of voices came up the ravine.
«Hell’s fire, but they’re fast,» muttered Reno. «Can you shoot a rifle?»
«Better than a six-gun.»
«Good. Keep those Comancheros pinned down while I finish. Leave the shotgun with me.»
As Eve started for the lip of the mesa with Reno’s rifle, he grabbed her.
«Keep down,» Reno ordered in a low, hard voice. «Go on your stomach for the last few yards. There are three of them, and they don’t have a repeating rifle, but it takes only one bullet to put you six feet under.»
Eve crawled to the lip of the mesa and stared down the narrow ravine. No men were in sight yet, but their voices carried clearly, as did the sound of hooves on stone.
«The next time goddamn Jericho wants me to go chasing goddamn Reno Moran, I’m gonna make goddamn damn sure I — goddamn!»
The sound of Eve’s shot echoed and reechoed through the narrow ravine. She levered in another shot and fired again. The bullet whined and caromed from stone to stone. She fired one more shot for good measure.
No one fired in return. They were all too busy diving for cover.
Eve looked over her shoulder. Reno was hammering the edges of the second can shut with the butt of his six-gun. A two-foot fuse dangled from each can.
«Keep them pinned down,» he said.
With a silent prayer, Eve sent bullets flying down the ravine while Reno crawled over to a ledge of smooth rock that jutted out to one side of the ravine. Carefully he shoved both cans into a deep crack.
«Keep firing,» Reno said.
While rifle shots echoed, he struck a match and lit both fuses.
Eve kept firing until she was snatched to her feet and set to running flat out away from the ravine. Scant seconds later, a sound like double thunder came from behind them. Reno took Eve down to the ground and covered her with his body while rock exploded and fell in a hard, sharp-edged rain.
Behind them a piece of the plateau sheared away. Skidding, bouncing, grinding, groaning, the stone avalanche went down the narrow ravine until it hit a barrier and piled up in a boiling cloud of dust and grit.
«You all right?» Reno asked.
«Yes.»
Reno rolled aside and came to his feet in an easy motion, bringing Eve with him. He approached the edge of the plateau cautiously and looked over.
The ravine was choked with stones of all sizes.
«Be damned,» he said. «That crack must have gone farther down than I thought.»
Numbly Eve stared, astonished at the change two cans of black powder had made.
Above the sound of random debris settling along the slope came the rhythmic beat of hooves. The sounds retreated farther and farther down the ravine as the mustangs fled the unexpected thunder.
«Even if those boys survived, they’ve got a long walk ahead of them,» Reno said with distinct satisfaction.
«Then we’re — safe?»
Reno gave Eve a rather dark smile.
«For a time, yes,» he said. «But if there’s another way onto this plateau, Slater’s Comancheros will know about it.»
«Maybe there isn’t,» Eve said quickly.
«You better hope there is.»
«Why?»
«Because their way up is our waydown,» Reno said succinctly.
Eve rubbed her dusty forehead against her equally dusty sleeve and tried not to show her dismay at the thought of being trapped on top of the plateau.
Reno saw anyway. He squeezed her arm reassuringly just before he turned away.
«Come on,» he said. «Let’s go see how well you hobbled the horses.»
