“And will they?”
Zak cocked his head and looked at her as he would an addled child.
“One of those men is burying his wife, the woman I killed. He’ll want blood for blood.”
Colleen shivered. “It seems such a shame,” she said. “All the killing.”
“That’s why you ought to go with these boys on into Tucson.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my brother. Now I know where he is, I’ll not give up.”
“We feel the same way,” Scofield said. “Lieutenant O’Hara’s a mighty fine soldier.”
“That’s right,” Rivers said. “’Sides, you can’t go up against three men all by yourself. Me ’n’ Delbert can even up the odds.”
“Then you’ll take Miss O’Hara into Tucson?” Zak said.
“I’m not going to Tucson,” she hissed, her whisper loud as bacon sizzling in a fry pan.
“I’ll be tracking near a dozen men, Miss O’Hara. Any one of which would shoot you dead without a second thought.”
“You don’t think I’d shoot back?”
“You might. But would you shoot first, before any one of them got the drop on you, Miss O’Hara?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice firm and filled with conviction. “Yes, I would. My father and my brother didn’t just teach me how to shoot. They taught me how to defend myself. And stop calling me Miss O’Hara like I’m some frail waif who needs coddling. And I’ll call you Zak, if you don’t mind.”
“I think you’ve been out in the hot sun too long, Colleen,” Zak said.
She gave a low “humph” and glared at him.
“All right,” Zak said, looking at the two soldiers. “You want to mix in, I could use your help.”
“We do,” Scofield said. “What’s your plan?”
Cody was ticking off minutes in his mind, minutes and distance, figuring Trask was keeping up a steady pace to the east. Soon, he thought, he would be out of earshot of any gunfire. Maybe. Sound carried far in the clear dry desert air.
“Rivers,” Zak said, “how good are you with that Fogarty carbine?”
Rivers looked down at the rifle in his hand.
“This is a Spencer rifle,” he said. “Army issue.”
“Spencer sold his company to a man named Fogarty. Can you shoot it true?”
“Yes, sir, Colonel, sir. I’m the best shot in the outfit.”
“He is,” Scofield said. “And I’m right next to him.”
“Colleen, I don’t want you in this. You stay here. Scofield, you climb that ridge about two hundred yards to the east. Rivers, you climb up from here. Real slow. Soon as I round the end of this hill and you don’t see me, you start your climb. Stay low and move slow. I’ll ride up on those boys and tell ’em ‘what for,’ and you should be in position by then. Any one of them goes for his gun, you open up.”
“We’ll do ’er,” Scofield said.
Zak walked to his horse, climbed into the saddle.
Colleen came up to him, grabbed his hand, clasped it in hers.
“Zak,” she said, her whispery voice like silk sliding on silk, “be careful. I want you to come back alive.”
“I will, Colleen. Just sit tight. Try to think of something pleasant.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’ll think about you, Zak.”
He turned his horse and rode off toward the lowest point of the hill. He did not look back, but he felt three pairs of eyes burning into his back.
He slipped the Colt in and out of its holster twice, then seated it loosely in its leather sheath. In the distance he heard a quail pipe its fluting call, and above him the buzzards wheeled on air currents, so close he could see their homely heads, their jeweled eyes, sharp beaks, as they moved their heads from side to side.
To the northwest he thought he saw a blackening sky, but he couldn’t be sure. The day was young and the blue sky marked only with long trailing wisps of clouds that looked like smoke from a faraway fire.
Trask should be far enough away by now, he thought. He hoped the Mexicans would take his advice and ride back to Tucson without a fight.
It was a long shot, but he’d make them the offer.
But he was ready.
For anything.
Chapter 23
Julio Delgado heard a sound. He looked up from the shallow grave, squinted until his eyes
