Finally, he gathered up the guns, both theirs and the dead lawmen's. They had three rifles—a .30 caliber Winchester, a .405 Winchester, and a .303 Savage. In addition they had five handguns—a .38 automatic, two single-action .38-40 Colt revolvers, an army-issue .45 Colt automatic, and a .30 Luger. He packed the entire six hundred rounds of ammunition the lawmen had brought with them.

They left the bosque from the north and followed the low ground to the bed of the San Pedro River. Sisson was in the lead this time. John, awake, though not completely alert, rode in the middle, and Tom brought up the rear. Each carried a rifle and at least one handgun.

The bed of the San Pedro was completely dry. The streams coming out of the Catalina and Galiuro Mountains had gone dry months before, and the spring rains and snowmelt were still weeks away. They moved in relative silence on sand and silt through the dry riverbed, staying close to the near edge of the bed, which was frequently overhung with mesquite, creosote, and acacia. The moon was moving toward the last quarter, and while it gave them enough light to pick their way through the riverbed, they were not visible from more than a hundred yards.

Mostly they moved in silence, or as much silence as three mounted men can move in. The horses’ hooves made soft concussions on the sand and silt, and their tack creaked. The horses shook and snorted. Coyotes were yipping in the distance, and not too far to the east a great horned owl hooted.

The men talked little. There wasn't much to say. The events of that day, shocking and chaotic as they had been, had already settled into history and were now just the events the men were running from. They rode with a grim determination, away from the Galiuros and toward the Dragoon Mountains, some fifty miles away. Between themselves and the Dragoons was the Sulphur Springs Valley, some two hundred square miles of flat, open grassland. Once they were in the valley, they would be at their most vulnerable. A man with a pair of good binoculars could glass them from miles away, too far for them to know they were being watched. It was likely, Tom thought, that once they were making their way across the valley, they would be picked off before they ever knew someone was near. Tom was aware of his back now, feeling for the first time the gun sights on his back. It would become a familiar sensation.

He could see John's head nod, then come upright and begin to nod again. John could sleep in the saddle. Hell, they all could. They had done it hundreds of times in their lives. He couldn't make out Sisson, but he was pretty sure that Sisson was awake. He spurred his horse and came alongside John, who woke when he did.

“What?” John asked.