'I should have been able to manage it anyway,' McKee said. His voice was bitter.
'How did he know our names?'
'He looked through the papers in our tent,' McKee said. 'I guess he saw them there.'
'No talking,' the Navajo said. 'Save your breath.'
They walked in silence up the sand and around the outcropping where Canfield's camper was parked.
'We'll stop here a moment,' the man said.
McKee saw Miss Leon looking at the truck. He was glad he had had sense enough to close the tailgate.
I noticed you looked in it,' the man said. 'I wish you hadn't broken that window. What did you think that would accomplish? It's going to look funny.'
The Navajo moved toward the pickup, watching them as he did. He glanced inside and then briefly inspected the broken window.
'This Canfield seemed like a nice fella,' he said. 'Full of jokes.'
'Then why did you kill him?' McKee asked fiercely. He spoke in Navajo.
The big man looked at him, as if trying to understand the question. He answered in English. 'Just bad luck. There wasn't any other way to handle it.' He looked at McKee solemnly and pursed his lips. The expression was rueful. 'Have to go on now,' he said. 'It's more than a mile to my car and a lot of climbing.'
Within a few hundred yards, the going became increasingly difficult. The canyon floor rose sharply now and was choked by brush and tumbled boulders. McKee climbed stolidly, helping Miss Leon when he could and trying to think. What kind of a monster was this? He seemed perfectly sane, as if this crazy episode were simply business. He had apparently killed Jeremy as unemotionally as he would swat a fly. McKee was absolutely certain he would kill Miss Leon and him with the same coolness. And, as usual, he could do nothing about it. He had thought about turning suddenly and trying to hit the man with a rock. But his right hand was almost useless and the Navajo kept a cautious distance behind them.
It didn't seem likely the man would leave them alive, not with the knowledge that he was a murderer. But why hadn't he simply shot them by the camper? McKee had sensed that the man had considered this, at least for a moment, after he had confirmed that Canfield's body was still in the truck. But he had dropped the idea. He must have some use for us alive, McKee thought. Either that, or he wants our bodies somewhere else, and it's easier to have us walk. But why? The man seemed sane but there was no conceivable sanity in any of this.
'We'll climb out here,' the Navajo said. He indicated a gap in a rockslide which had broken out of the south wall of the canyon. 'You go first, Dr. McKee. When you reach the top you will lie down with your feet sticking out over the rim where I can see them. Ellen will be just ahead of me and if you try anything foolish I will have to shoot her so I can come after you. Do you understand how it will work?'
He studied McKee's face.
'You may think I'm bluffing. I'm not. I don't really think I'll need Miss Leon.'
McKee looked at her. She stood just below him, breathing heavily from the exertion, her face damp with perspiration. She attempted a smile.
Somehow, McKee thought, I'm going to get her out of this. Even if it kills me.
He began climbing. It was slow because of his right hand, and by the time he reached the top he was drained with exhaustion. He lowered himself onto the rimrock, with his feet jutting out.
'Stay on your stomach,' the voice from below ordered.
The position left him completely helpless. He couldn't move without the Navajo seeing him and he had no doubt at all that the man would kill Miss Leon the moment he did. He wondered what the man had meant about probably not needing her. Why would he need her? And why did he need him?
The Navajo reached the top before Miss Leon and stood well aside while she finished the climb.
'Walk right over there to the truck,' he said. McKee saw the Land-Rover almost hidden behind a growth of juniper.
'But first hold that hand out so I can see it.'
McKee held out his left hand, palm open.
'Are you left-handed, Dr. McKee?'
'No. I'm right-handed.'
'I was afraid you would be. Let me see it.'
McKee slowly raised his injured hand. He suppressed a wince as motion renewed the pain. The sun was directly south now and that might explain some of the weakness in his legs. It was noon and he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon.
'That looks bad,' the Navajo said. 'We may have to soak it to get that swelling down.'
McKee saw that Miss Leon was also staring at his hand. He dropped it, flinched again, and the blood drained into it.
'I'm touched by your sympathy,' McKee said.
The Navajo chuckled. 'It's not really that,' he said, grinning at McKee. 'It's just that I have to have you write a letter for us.'
Chapter 14
There is no comfortable way, McKee found, to lie face down on the back seat of a moving vehicle with his wrists tied together and roped to his ankles. The best he could arrange involved staring directly at the back of the front seat. By looking out of the right corner of his eye, he could see the back of the Big Navajo's neck. The man had
