“It will, and I would rather not have to do it. Maybe they'll slip by us. Take your saddles and packs so they can't see them. I'll stow mine under that mesquite. Don't shoot until someone else does. Me or them. I think we'd be better off hid than shooting. That's our best chance.”

Sisson nodded grimly, and he and John gathered up their gear. Tom threw them a couple of boxes of ammunition each, then scuttled off, low to the ground to get into the mesquite tree.

When John and Sisson had reached the ridge, the riders had come closer, but not a lot. They were moving slow, maybe still trying to find tracks, maybe being careful not to stumble into an ambush. John pushed himself hard into the basalt and kept his head down. He fought the impulse to just sit up straight, draw a bead on the lead rider, and fire. The odds on that weren't good, and it would certainly send one of the riders back the way he had come, and that would bring more riders and the rest of the posse down on them.

A fight was the last resort. He did understand that. What he was supposed to want was to see the riders skirt past them and on toward the Little Dragoon Mountains or, even better, farther east, away from the path they intended to take. As long as the posses didn't know their whereabouts, the posses would spread out and cover as much territory as they could. Once Tom and John and Sisson had been spotted, a posse would be bearing down, and it would be time to prepare to die.

Sisson was behind a creosote bush so that he could watch without being seen from a distance. There was no reason for John to raise his head at all. Still, it was a hard thing. It was what a rabbit did when it first sensed danger—just froze up and didn't move. But he was no rabbit, and he didn't like the feeling. He wanted to fight or run, but this was neither. It was a terrible thing to have a choice and have to choose the thing you least wanted to do. It was even worse because it might be the last thing he would ever do.

Sisson tapped him on the shoulder. John rolled over onto his back without raising up. Sisson pointed his hand toward the east and made a quick chopping motion, then raised his thumb up. They were moving the other way. Only then did John allow himself to raise his head just enough to finally see the riders going past them just to the east.