“Dr. Cameron,” the leader said sharply. All three men in the bright orange suits pulled their weapons up. “I’m afraid I really must insist.”

Eric squeezed the trigger, and his first shot caught the tall leader high in the shoulder, jerking him around violently. One of the other men evidently fired, though later Eric realized there had been no sound of a shot. Cliffs low grunt was audible even at this distance as he spun around with a jerk, then jackknifed forward into the grass.

Eric snapped off another shot, but the two men dove for cover, and he saw a puff of dust as the bullet tore into dry ground. As excited shouts for help filled the air, Eric grabbed the binoculars and focused them quickly on Cliffs still figure. For a long moment, Eric stared at the motionless figure, the shock hammering at his reason. Savagely he jammed the glasses back into their case and snatched up the rifle again. He squeezed off a shot at a quick flash of orange below him and grunted in satisfaction at the sharp cry of pain and the crash of a heavy body in the brush.

“He’s up on the ridge!”

“Stay down! Stay down!”

“Circle around him.”

“Stay low!”

Eric was aware of the voices below, but with cool precision, he brought the rifle stock firmly against his cheek and began methodically emptying the magazine at the biggest target in the clearing. His first shot ricocheted with an angry whine off the orange vehicle’s bubble, so he lowered the sights a fraction of an inch. First one tire exploded, then another. The remaining four shots stitched a neat pattern in the orange and blue hood.

With one last anguished glance at Cliffs inert form, he slithered backwards over the crest of the hill, then leaped to his feet and burst into a hard run toward the horses.

Eric tethered the horses in a thick clump of cottonwoods near the river, took the rifle out of its scabbard, and shouldered the saddle bags, which he had stuffed with hand-wrapped sticks of dynamite yesterday afternoon. Numbing shock hardened into a tight fist in his stomach whenever he thought of Cliff. He turned and trotted swiftly through the trees, pushing away a hunger for revenge so strong it was almost like acid on his tongue. His only task now was to stop that column long enough to give the village time to prepare their defenses.

The mountain air was still, filled with the heavy aroma of pine, and the heat of the afternoon was now at its fullest. As he came out of the trees and onto the old highway, a blue jay burst out at him, furious that he had startled it without warning. But if Eric heard it, he gave no sign, for he had a fury of his own driving him.