High Desert Barbecue (18 page)

“
Yeah, I know. Why?”

“
Just in case they sent someone to the trailhead. I don’t want you walking into trouble. You have three … no,
four
rounds in the magazine.”

L
ani stared at the gun, and then began weaving the strap through the loops on her own hipbelt. When it was finally fastened in place, the slab of Colt-manufactured steel wore her more than she wore it, but Scott grinned his satisfaction.

“
Do I look all right?”

“
You look dangerous, baby.”

“
Are you all set?”

L
ani nodded.

“
I am if everything is on that paper.”

“
I wrote it all down just in case. Go on ahead, baby.”

“
Here?”

S
cott glanced at Rollo, who looked back up at the cliff. Rollo shrugged.

“
We might as well climb here.”

S
cott took Lani’s hands.

“
Yep. Here.”

L
ani’s lip quivered.

“
Don’t get yourself hurt.”

“
Oh Christ,” Rollo muttered.

“
Shut up,” Scott said. “No, not you.” He squeezed Lani’s hands.

“
Be careful.”

“
You be careful too. Whoever these people are, they’re mean as snakes”

A
few feet distant, Rollo snorted.

“
Snakes ain’t so—”

“
Shut up,” Scott and Lani said in unison.

R
ollo muttered.

S
cott and Lani kissed, long and deep. Forcing himself to break the clinch, Scott pulled himself away. He dropped his pack to the ground and transferred some gear between his pack and Lani’s pack. Then he bent and rubbed Champ’s fur.

“
You watch out for her buddy.”

L
ani looked back over her shoulder as she walked away. She grinned and tugged at the fabric of her shirt.

“
I’ll have clean clothing before you!”

S
cott waved.

“
Don’t worry, baby. When we meet back up, you won’t need any clothing at all.”

R
ollo looked after the departing woman and shook his head.

“
I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“
Why?”

“
That got me all worked up. And now I want a hooker.”

Chapter 38

S
ome distance up the canyon—further than Scott and company had any right to hope—Jason was also all worked up. Obscene as his thoughts were, though, they didn’t involve hookers.

“
You fuckheads are
not
turning back!” His face bulged red and a vein throbbed in his temple. “We didn’t come this far to run away just because those bastards shot back at us!”

U
naccustomed to overt displays of anger—or, indeed, of any strong emotion—Jason aped the mannerisms of Chief Ranger Van Kamp to express his outrage at his wavering crew.

T
erry, Jason’s fellow ranger, recognized the familiar mannerisms. But even he didn’t realize that his colleague’s uncanny impression of their tiny boss was less an expression of rage than of gut-wrenching fear. Jason shook not with anger, but in terror of what Van Kamp and his co-conspirators would do to the bearer of bad news if the team returned empty-handed.

“
Hey, calm down,” Terry suggested. He backed off a judicious few paces. “We’re just saying that this all seems a little more serious than we anticipated.”

B
ob nodded.

“
I think that guy was actually trying to kill us.”

J
ason glared.

“
Were you or were you not trying to kill him? That’s why we’re here, right?”

“
Wait,” Terry said. “We’re actually trying to kill them?”

F
ive pairs of eyes bored into the ranger. The moment stretched out in silence. A shadow flickered across the group from the passage of a hawk overhead. Terry glanced up at the bird, which was starkly outlined against a patch of blue sky. He winced as Ray slapped him in the back of the head.

B
ob shrugged.

“
Well, yeah. I’m just not used to people shooting back.”

“
They do that sometimes.”

“
I guess. Are you sure we shouldn’t turn back? Who would blame—”

R
ay growled. It was an animal noise that started low in his chest and erupted from his throat. His scraped, dirt-streaked body and metallic loincloth underlined the savagery in the sound.

“
Nobody turns back.” He gripped his rifle so the muzzle pointed at the ground between Bob and Terry. “I’ll be damned if I’m walking out of the forest looking like this without something to show for my trouble.”

“
That’s the spirit,” Jason said. Appalled as he was by Ray’s implied threat, he was thankful that somebody else shared his desire to go forward—and was willing to prod the others along. Still, he had the strong feeling that he had somehow become a passenger on the out-of-control rollercoaster of his own life. He shook it off. “Get your gear together. We’re heading out.”

L
ifting his depressingly light daypack, Jason felt someone brush up against him. He turned.

“
Hi,” Samantha whispered. She pulled a strap from his pack over his shoulder and eased it into place. “You were so forceful, just now.”

“
Oh, I—”

“
I really liked it.” She met his eyes. “Really.”

A
few yards away, Ray snorted and turned in disgust. He ran smack into Rena. She looked up at him with a smirk on her face.

“
You don’t look so bad to me.” She tugged at a tattered strand of his emergency blanket. “Really.”

R
ay shuddered.

Chapter 39

S
cott reached for a handhold to pull himself to the ledge above and winced as a sharp pain stabbed through his finger.

“
Son of a bitch.”

H
e retrieved his hand and stared dolefully at the long thorn embedded in the last joint of his right index finger. A sharp yank removed the thorn, but it left behind a burning sensation out of proportion with the small wound and tiny drop of blood.

“
Watch out for cactus,” Rollo called from below. “They’re a bitch.”

“
Thanks.”

S
cott carefully chose another handhold and hauled himself to the ledge above. He cursed as his knee scraped across a rocky outcrop, drawing blood. Once safely atop the ledge, he kicked dirt fitfully at the prickly pear lurking just behind the edge, where he’d first placed his hand, but took care to avoid entangling his foot in the plant’s spines.

“
Gimme a hand,” Rollo called.

S
cott knelt and stretched out his arm. Rollo caught hold and scrambled as the younger man pulled. They sprawled together on the ledge, which was wider than it seemed from below.

“
You think we’re half way up?” Rollo gasped.

S
cott glanced up at the sky where a line of storm clouds threatened yet another Monsoon soaking. His eyes traveled to the rim, still far above.

“
No. We’re maybe a third of the way up. If it makes you feel any better, it looks easier from here on. You almost have a stair case for the next 50 feet or so.”

R
ollo sat up for a look, and then promptly lay back down.

“
Yeah. All we need are eight-foot legs to match and we’re all set.”

S
cott wiped sweat from his face. His skin felt warm with sunburn. He had sunscreen in his pack but, as usual, he’d forgotten to grease up. He doffed his pack and set to rectifying that error now. While he smeared himself with white cream, he stared up the canyon, looking for movement.

“
I don’t see anything behind us yet.”

R
ollo propped himself up again to see for himself. He brought his hand to the brim of his hat, providing his eyes with a little extra shade.

“
Nope. Nothing.”

“
We’ll have to hustle if we’re going to get to the top and dig up that rifle of yours before the bad guys get passed us.”

R
ollo sighed and looked straight up at the long distance yet to be climbed.

“
Or …”

“
Yeah? I’m open to alternatives.”

“
Why don’t you tell me where you stashed your stuff. I’ll climb up and get it while you keep watch for the bad guys.”

T
he older man looked hopeful for a moment, and then slumped.

“
It’s a good idea, but there’s no way I can tell you how to find the cache. It’s not like I can draw you a map.”

S
cott slapped his forehead.

“
Don’t you remember where you buried your stuff?”

“
Mostly.”

“
Mostly? What the hell does that mean?”

R
ollo sighed.

“
Well, it’s been a long time. And I hiked in to make the cache; I didn’t climb a cliff. When I get to the top, I’ll have to look around and orient myself before I can even start looking.”

“
Shit.”

“
Well … yeah.”

“
So we’ll go up together.”

R
ollo was silent for a long moment. Then he cleared his throat.

“
What happens if those bastards pass us while we’re up on top?”

S
cott looked down the canyon the way Lani and Champ had gone. He thought he saw movement that might have been them, but it might as easily have been an animal or his eyes playing tricks. He didn’t speak.

“
I’ll have to go up alone,” Rollo added.

“
And I’ll stay here with the .22.”

“
Yup.” Rollo sighed again. “Oh shit.” He slid his arms from the straps on his pack and rose to his feet. His arms stretched out before him, fingers laced together, palms facing outward. The knuckles cracked together with a noise like the breaking of a handful of dry sticks.

“
Wish me luck.”

“
If you bring back something more powerful than this popgun, I’ll give you more than good wishes.”

R
ollo squinted and cocked his head.

“
I don’t swing that—”

“
Cold beer, you asshole.”

R
ollo smiled.

“
You do love me after all. In a traditionally masculine way, that is.”

“
Get going.”

R
ollo set off, levering himself onto the first giant stair leading to the rim above. He made good time, and soon his figure dwindled in the distance, like a bug crawling up a wall.

Chapter 40

R
ollo didn’t much mind making the climb alone; he’d lived alone by choice for years, after all. He wasn’t happy about splitting the tight little group three ways, though. As much of a loner as he was, he firmly believed that safety lay in numbers—though safety in well-armed numbers was better yet, and he had to admit that his .22 rifle and dwindling supply of ammunition wouldn’t keep them whole and happy forever.