Zak’s mouth curved in a lazy smile.
He turned his horse and set out toward the adobe he had seen in the distance. They followed the wagon tracks, then climbed another hill to survey the trail ahead. The adobe sat atop a rocky knoll, less than a mile distant. Horses milled in a pole corral some yards from the dwelling. Shimmering pools of watery light shone like fallen stars all around, dancing and disappearing with every turn of the head. The light was blinding and Zak did not look at any of the mirages directly, but scanned the adobe for movement, for any sign of life.
“See anything, Chama?”
“A white man will not bask in the sun like a lizard on such a day as this. If a man is there, he is inside, where the adobe is cool.”
“He could be watching us.”
“No. There is no shadow at the window.”
“You have the eyes of an eagle, Chama.”
Chama chuckled. “I think that you see as well as I, Cody.”
They rode down the slope of the hill, the cobbles clunking under their horses’ hooves, tumbling where they were dislodged, rolling a few inches before they halted and lay still once again.
They stayed to the flat, following the wagon ruts. These were crumbling and their edges lost to the wind, but still plainly visible, days old.
“We’d better split up, Chama,” Zak said. “Come at the adobe from the sides. I’ll ride up in front, call the man out. You can flank me if he opens up on me. Could be more than one man, too.”
“We will see,” Chama said.
Chama rode off then, on a tangent, making a wide circle so he would come up on another side of the adobe. Zak rode straight toward it, his senses honed to a keen sharpness, alert for any signs of life or belligerence.
He closed to within a hundred yards of the front door, giving Nox his head. He saw his ears stiffen and twist. The horse arched his back, lifted his head high. His neck stiffened.
What was Nox seeing that was not there? Zak wondered.
The horses in the corral spotted him and one of them whickered.
Fifty yards away. No movement at the window. The door was closed tight.
Forty yards and Nox seemed to stiffen all over, step more gingerly. Zak let his right hand fall to his holster. He put a thumb on the hammer of his pistol.
The breeze blew against his face. A small sudden gust whipped him, stung his cheeks with grit.
He thought he heard a metallic sound.
Then he heard the
He heard the whoosh of a bullet, saw it kick up dust as it plowed a divot ten yards in front of them.
“You opened the ball, you sonofabitch,” Zak said to himself and drew his pistol as he dug spurs into Nox’s flanks and charged straight at the adobe.
He knew the rifle that the man used, from its deep-throated roar, muffled by the adobe walls. He knew just how long it would take for the man to fire that rifle again, and each second that passed seemed an eternity.
Life hung on such a slender thread, he thought, and he could feel that thread stretching, stretching, to the breaking point.
Chapter 13
The Big Fifty.
The sound of the Sharps was unmistakable, and Zak knew he had only seconds to get out of the line of fire before the shooter could reload the single shot rifle. He saw the puff of white smoke cloud the window ledge in the lower left-hand corner. He rode hard to come up in front of the house before the man inside could get off a second shot.
Nox’s muscles bunched up and he galloped as the energy in those muscles uncoiled. He stretched out his neck and laid his ears down, raced under the guidance of the bit in his teeth.
There was no second shot by the time Zak reached the front of the house. He took Nox around the corner to the other side, jumped out of the saddle and hunched down beneath a window on that side.
The scrape of a boot and Zak whirled, his pistol a part of him, swinging like a weather vane to come to bear on whoever was coming around the corner of the adobe.
Chama stepped into view, hunched over, pistol in hand. He tiptoed toward Zak, who waved him down even closer to the ground.
“See anything?” Chama said.
Zak shook his head. “What’s out back?” he asked.
“A worn-down old wall, a boarded-up window.”
The adobe bricks were crumbling, the gypsum almost all washed away, sand along the base of the very old building.
Zak pressed his ear against the wall, listened. He heard only the faint susurrance of the breeze against the
