“All right,” Tom said. “It worked and we're still alive. But we need to get up into those mountains where we can hide better and make a good stand if we have to.”

“Wootan and them went to the mountains.”

“I know that. But we can't stay down here. It's too risky. This trick ain't going to last forever. The Dragoons is big mountains. We got to get into them where the others ain't. That's all it is.”

“I thought we was going to the Chiricahuas,” John said.

“Eventually, but we can't get there right away. We can't spend a lot of time in the valley right now, and the Dragoons is closer than the Chiricahuas.”

“How we going to stay up in those mountains without food?”

“How much we got, Sisson?”

“Not enough,” Sisson said. “There's some cans of beans and some meat. That's about it. We can't stay up in the mountains in winter very long on that.”

“All right,” Tom said. “Before we head up there, we got to provision ourselves.”

It was just dusk when they saddled up and headed southwest to the town of Pearce, ten miles away. The growing dark gave moderate cover. They would be able to see approaching cars or trucks from a long distance. They would be virtually invisible to riders at more than a half mile or so, but then, so would riders be invisible to them. They would rely mainly on their ears. There were fewer night sounds in February than there would be in just another month. The coyotes started up right away, yipping across the distances to mark their territories and passages. The owls would start up soon enough. Beyond that, it was quiet, save the concussions of horses’ hooves, which were louder now, the muffles having been worn to shreds already and now discarded. There were trails to follow and roads, but they worked their way over them and parallel to them to avoid leaving clear tracks.