There was no time to wonder where Chino had come from — no time for anything but action. Brand’s Colt rose, the hammer already back, and he was easing the trigger down as the muzzle lined up on Chino’s body. The hammer dropped with a dull click, confirming Brand’s suspicions about wet powder.
He cocked and fired again, all in split seconds, and once again was rewarded by the hammer striking a dud bullet. He saw the gleam of realization in Chino’s eyes, and then the massive Mexican lumbered forward, his great bulk lunging at Brand. Lifting the heavy Colt Brand hurled it at Chino, the solid hunk of iron smashing against Chino’s nose. Bone cracked and blood spurted in bright streams.
Chino grunted, pawing at the wetness bubbling from his nose. Then his great body slammed into Brand, knocking him backwards. Brand lost his balance and went flat on his back. He stared up through the swirl of dust to see Chino looming over him. A huge boot swung at his skull and he rolled aside a fraction ahead of it. He avoided the boot, but found he had rolled to the edge of the canyon rim. Brand clawed at the rocky ground, managing to pull himself back to firmer ground.
He twisted frantically, barely pulling himself away from Chino’s slashing boot. Rolling to gain some distance, Brand got to his feet and lunged upright as Chino appeared in front of him. Brand ducked under Chino’s wild swing, then slammed heavy blows to the Mexican’s side. Chino halted his rush, turning slowly, his eyes seeking Brand. A hard fist clubbed Chino across the side of the face, tearing a bloody gash in his flesh. Chino’s head rocked from the blow. Before he could recover Brand hit him again, putting all his weight behind the blow. More blood poured down Chino’s face. In blind anger Chino struck out again. One flailing arm caught Brand across the chest and there was enough force to drive him to his knees. Chino clubbed both fists together and hammered them down across the back of Brand’s neck.
A numbness swept over Brand as he was slammed face down in the dust.
His skull burned with pain and his eyes refused to focus properly. Yet he still had the presence of mind to twist his body and roll away from Chino’s shambling bulk. Blinking his eyes to clear them Brand made out the Mexican’s hazy form as Chino came for him again. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get to his feet, but he had to do it — or Chino would trample him to death. Even as he reached his knees Chino reached him, bending forward to take hold of Brand’s shirt in one massive fist. Brand rolled on to his back, and in the same movement he kicked out and up. The heel of his boot struck Chino full in the face. The impact crushed his cheekbone and increased the damage to Chino’s nose. Chino groaned, stumbling back, his hands clasped over his ruined face, blood spidering between his fingers. He failed to see Brand stagger upright.
Chino also failed to protect himself from Brand’s continuing attack — he didn’t see, but felt, Brand’s relentless strike. Heavy blows rained down on Chino, and his only defense was to backtrack. He was unable to see where he was stepping and went over the edge of the rim. Chino’s twisting body tumbled away from the rim. He gave a single, frantic yell and vanished from sight, his body bouncing and thumping against the canyon wall as he fell. A shower of loose stones followed him.
Brand snatched up his Colt and put it away. He crossed to where Kathy was standing, gazing down into the canyon.
“His horse must be nearby,” Brand said. “Come on.”
She followed him without a word, still in shock from the rapid turn of events.
As they made their way along the rim Brand accepted that if Chino had been so close, Huerta wouldn’t be far behind. As he searched for Chino’s horse he kept an eye open for other riders.
They found the horse, a powerful chestnut, tethered in a dense thicket.
The first thing Brand spotted after the horse was the rifle in a leather scabbard. It was a long barreled Henry with polished brass fittings. The weapon was fully loaded when Brand checked it. Kathy found a hide canteen hanging from the massive saddle-pommel, and they both drank gratefully.
Brand climbed into the saddle, reaching down to pull Kathy up behind him. She slid her arms around his waist, gripping him tightly.
“Now this is a way of travel I could get to like,” she said.
Brand took the chestnut out of the thicket and turned west, his intention to cover as much distance as possible from Prienti before he headed north for the border.
They rode through a silent, seemingly empty land. Dust rose in their wake, hanging in the still air. Around them the land baked beneath the sun. This was an ancient land, steeped in a violence that had become part of everyday life. The ways of Mexico were as complex as its people. A blend of the noble and the savage, the peaceful and the brutally violent. It was in the same instant a beautiful but cruel land, and one that held a fatal attraction for those who had tasted its heady wine.
Right now Brand had little thought for anything save what lay ahead. He still had no way of knowing what game Ramon Huerta was playing. So he had to take each moment as it came. Take each hand as it was dealt and make full use of any good cards he might be lucky enough to draw. It was a gamble, pure and simple. No way of knowing what your opponent was thinking, except that he was intent on winning, regardless of the cost to the others in the game.
The sun began to set, flooding the land with rich, blood red colors. The shadows deepened, blending with the terrain and turning everything a somber purple. With the oncoming darkness the intense heat faded, leaving the evening warm and still.
Before full darkness covered them Brand found a place where they could rest. He took the chestnut into a jumble of high rocks and tangled scrub. Out of the saddle he helped Kathy down and she sank to the ground, half asleep.
He tethered the horse and removed the blanket roll from behind the saddle. There were saddlebags and he took these as well. Brand decided against removing the chestnut’s saddle in case they needed to make a quick getaway.
“We’ll rest for a few hours,” he said. “Move out while it’s still dark. We should reach the border before noon tomorrow.”
Kathy roused herself and unrolled the blankets. While she busied herself Brand checked out the saddlebags.
There wasn’t a great deal in the pouches. He found a stone bottle and when he uncorked it he found it was full of pulque. He put the bottle to his lips and took a swallow. The innocent looking brew burned its way to his stomach. It had a powerful sting, bringing tears to his eyes. He cleared his throat, realizing he was a fool to drink the stuff on an empty stomach.
“Any food in there?” Kathy asked.
Brand found a thick packet of rolled up newspaper. Inside he found a half dozen tortillas stuffed with some kind of meaty paste. He offered one to Kathy and they sat eating in silence, sharing the food between them.
When the tortillas had all gone Kathy asked, “What about the bottle? Don’t I get any?”
Brand smiled. “This stuff isn’t fit for humans to drink.”
“Well hand it over because right now human is the last thing I feel.”
He handed her the bottle, figuring it was the easiest way to let her find out. Kathy put it to her lips and before Brand could stop her she had taken a long swallow. She lowered the bottle and handed it back to him. For a moment she just sat still. Her eyes met Brand’s and for a moment he thought she was going to pass out. Instead she lay back on the blankets and drew her arm over her eyes.
“Oh Lord,” she murmured softly. “I think I’m going to die. What was that stuff?”
Brand leaned over her. Kathy opened her eyes and stared at him. “You’ll be fine,” he told her, grinning at her woeful expression.
“You are heartless, Jason Brand. And you have poisoned me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Before he could move away Kathy’s arms reached up and circled his neck.
She pulled him close. “So why don’t you help me recover? Just feel how my heart’s pounding.” She took one of his hands and pressed it to her right breast.
“Wrong side,” he suggested.
“Don’t make complications,” Kathy rebuked him.
Brand didn’t make any more comments. He didn’t have much opportunity. Kathy, rightly or wrongly, had decided there was only one cure for her malady, and it took every ounce of Brand’s concentration to administer it.
It was sometime later when she spoke.
“That’s the first time you haven’t rushed all day.”
“Some things you just don’t hurry,” he told her.
She stirred restlessly beneath him, her warm, silken flesh doing pleasant things to him.
“You know something else, Jason Brand?”
“Now what?”
She laughed softly, the sound gentle against the night. “This is just foolishness.”
“You know something, Miss Dorsey?”
“Mmmm?”
“You are damned right.”
It was.
They both knew it.
And neither of them cared . . .