As the small force of men moved carefully down the steep mountainside, Paco glanced at Steve, his dark eyes a little strained at their deception, but glittering with excitement.

“Dios mío! You are crazy to try this, Steve!”

“It won’t be the first time I’ve done it,” Steve said flatly, and it was the truth. Only then, he had gone back to the same prison where he had suffered such degradation of his soul. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about, or to tell. It still haunted him at times, worse than his days here at the Galena, where conditions were harsh but not degrading.

Hooves clattered on rock and saddle leather creaked in air that was thick with shimmering heat. Overhead, the cry of a hawk drifted down, absorbed by rock and twisted limbs of pine trees formed into grotesque shapes by the hot wind.

“But it is such a risk. What if something goes wrong?”

Steve squinted against the sun’s glare; he wore no hat, a shapeless serape slung over his shoulders. “Then shoot the foreman first. Make sure I have a rifle as soon as possible after the shooting starts.”

When they had drawn close Steve’s wrists were manacled, and he rode a horse in the midst of the others, as if he were again a prisoner. Butch Casey—a blue scarf around his neck to hide the raw, red line of his healing wound—rode on one side, Paco on the other. Tige and Charley were to hide and wait, along with a few other men; they’d never pass as Mexicans, not even as reformed bandits.

The men left outside the perimeters of the mine hid in stunted brush and stands of pine that stubbled the red shale and granite rock. A dozen rode forward, boldly approaching the metal gates that blocked the entrance to the mine. A guard stepped out of the shade to confront them.

“¡Alto!”

Paco made a convincing Rurale, arrogantly announcing that they had brought a prisoner to the mine.

A brief argument ensued, with the first man delaying until finally Paco threatened to send the prisoner back. “The governor will not like that, but I will tell him that you, Sergeant Ruiz, refused to open the gates.”

The sergeant’s eyes flicked to Steve, who sat on his horse with his head down, swaying slightly as if weak. Paco shrugged and started to turn the horses, but the guard stopped him, a scowl creasing his forehead.

“¡Ay di mi! Bring him in. I will allow Capitán Delgado to deal with him.”

Paco said slyly, “He has been here before, but this time, you should keep him chained, eh?”