They staked out the mounts and searched out spots for bedrolls. They could not risk a fire, but one was not needed for warmth. Blankets and bedrolls were tossed on the earth wherever promising resting places were found. Sierra and She Who Speaks, whom she now called Jael, huddled with Mitch Eagle Eyes and Growling Bear, who had ridden ahead and scouted the west entry to the canyon earlier.
Sierra said, “You are certain we won’t be seen here?”
Eagle Eyes said, “I ain’t never certain about anything, ma’am, but ain’t much chance of it in my estimation. No way they see us from inside the canyon, us being behind the overlooks and all, and I can’t figure why anybody would ride out of the canyon at night. Anyway, Roper volunteered for first watch, and I sure wouldn’t want to be the man that run into him in the dark. He’s one scary hombre.”
She Who Speaks said, “Tell us how you see things in the canyon.”
Eagle Eyes said, “Nothing much has changed since I scouted it a couple days back. Two guards up in the rocks just inside the canyon entrance. They won’t see nobody coming, but they’d hear you before you got to them. Bad thing is, we got to go single file riding in. Guards are the key. I know the boss will want to hold off the shooting a spell, but I don’t see how you get in behind them. Get the guards out—then you got time to hit them at the campsite and take out anybody near the horses.”
“Arrows,” She Who Speaks said. “Growling Bear brought his bow. We just need to place him within shooting range.”
“Just,” Sierra said. She pondered the challenge briefly. “Decoy.”
“I don’t understand,” She Who Speaks said.
“I will walk through the opening into the canyon, make a fuss so the guards hear me coming. When they see I am a woman, their curiosity will get the best of them and they—or at least one—will come down to see what I am doing there. Growling Bear will be ten paces behind me and take them down with arrows before a shot is fired.”
“You make it sound too easy,” She Who Speaks said. “It is too risky. There must be another way.”
“Jael, I can do this. I know I can. Tell me if you have a better idea.”
She Who Speaks shrugged. “I am very tired. I am going to my buffalo robe.”
Sierra’s plans were altered some the next morning. She found that Roper Hawley was a man to be reckoned with when her plan was explained to the others. “I will be with you, Missy,” Roper told her, “and you ain’t got a thing to say about it. Sergeant Tige said I wasn’t to let you out of my sight. I go right along with you. You can hang onto my arm like you’re sick or something. They won’t think nothing about you having a black man helping you. Slave days are gone but not in the heads of men like these. They’ll figure I’m your pet. I’ll leave my rifle in the scabbard but have my Bowie knife on my hip.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”
“Ain’t necessary maybe, but sergeant’s orders. That’s what I follow.”
“You’re not in the Army anymore, Roper.”
“I still work for Sergeant Tige. I stick to my orders. Ain’t nothing else to be said about this.”
Sierra sighed. “Okay, you win.” She admitted to herself that her resistance had been token. She had struggled with second thoughts about the previous night’s plan. She took some comfort in having the towering man at her side.
A half hour later, Sierra and Roper headed into the entrance opening while Growling Bear with bow in hand and an arrow nocked waited for their signal to follow. The trail was set between limestone walls that tapered wider as they reached skyward, thus allowing ample light into the tunnel-like opening. Sierra guessed the entryway stretched at least twenty-five feet and suspected some of it had been carved out by ancients. It was wide enough that horse and rider could pass through easily, but it would have been awkward for two to ride abreast.
When they were halfway through the entry, Sierra waved for Growling Bear to follow. As they reached the outlet to the canyon, Sierra tossed her hat on the ground and grasped Roper’s left arm. My Lord, it is forged of steel, she thought, when her fingers pressed into ungiving muscle. From a distance he looked like a scarecrow, but his appearance belied the sinewy frame. She tossed her hat aside and commenced sobbing and staggering as they moved toward the canyon proper. “It hurts,” she screamed, “and I can’t go any longer without a drink. Just leave me here to die.”
“What in the hell? Who is it? Sounds like woman,” came a man’s voice from outside. “Cover me. I’ll take a look.”
Sierra and Roper had almost reached the outlet when a big, bearded man cradling a rifle appeared outside the opening.
“See anybody, Ferdy?” asked the other sentry.
“Georgie, we’ve got an honest to God female. You got to see this. And she’s with the tallest nigger I ever seen.” He turned his head back to the visitors. “What’s the trouble, sweetheart?”
“Got lost. Our horses died. Hurt my ankle. Need water.”
“Got water, sweetheart, but we’ll have to come to terms on it.”
“Anything. Please, anything.”
“Now you’re talking my language.” He looked at Roper. “You, boy, bring her out where we can take a good look at the merchandise.”
As Sierra and Roper stepped out into the open, a squatty, younger man came sliding down the rocks with his rifle in hand and gained his footing not far from his partner.
