Abruptly, the canteen seemed to explode in Heyes’s hand, warm water gushing over his fingers and splashing in his face. He stared at his empty hand in amazement, wondering for a second if a bomb had gone off. He felt Kid shove him hard in the ribs, and tumbled off his horse, hitting the ground but scrambling up again to grab the reins as the frightened horse plunged up and down. “Up there,” Kid shouted, pointing, and fired two quick shots at a tall ridge of red rocks just above them. Heyes pulled his gun out too, but couldn’t see a thing to shoot at. Another shot whined off the rock six inches from his foot, and he jumped away.

 

He cast a desperate look around. The barren land offered few hiding places, the ridges and cliffs were too far to make a run for. The only possibility was a large square boulder, about shoulder height, a few yards away. "There!" he yelled, pointing at the sheltering rock, and Kid jumped off his horse. They raced for the boulder, and both dived behind it as three more shots kicked up dust and rock splinters in their wake.

 

Silence fell. They looked at each other, panting. “What the hell?” said Heyes, between gasps. “We haven’t even gotten into town yet, we haven’t had a chance to piss off anyone.”

 

“Must be someone who recognized us,” said Kid, reloading his gun with steady fingers.  "Maybe you were right about those guys in the saloon. Maybe one of them's been tracking us and thought this was a good place to get a clear shot.”

 

“He was right,” said Heyes, looking around the empty, open space surrounding them. Kid cautiously raised his head over the top of the rock. A shot instantly hit a splinter off the boulder, and he dived back down. “Wow, he’s good,” he said ruefully.

 

“What do you want to do?” asked Heyes, trying to keep a nasty feeling of panic out of his mind. “Make a run or shoot back?” He looked over at the horses, still sidling nervously about ten yards away. “If we could get to the horses, we could be out of range in two minutes.”

 

“I don’t know, he’s pretty good...” Kid’s words were cut off as two more shots were fired. One horse gave a scream that was eerily human, as a red welt appeared on its rump, and both horses flung up their heads and thundered off.

 

“Well, that settles that,”said Heyes.

 

“All right,” said Kid grimly. “He’s not going to have it all his own way.”

 

“Wait a...” Heyes began, but Kid jumped up and fired off three more shots at the cliff. The shots were immediately returned, and Kid swore and sank down, clutching his right arm. He cursed between clenched teeth, blood pouring from between his fingers. Heyes said nothing, just pried Kid’s hand off the wound, and ripped the sleeve wider to get a look. There was an ugly gash torn just above the elbow, from which blood streamed down relentlessly.

 

Heyes ripped off his bandanna and yanked it tight around the wound. Kid cursed again, and tried to pull his arm free. "Hold still," Heyes snapped. He pulled the knot tighter, but the bleeding continued sluggishly. "Anything broken?" he asked. "Can you move it?"

 

          Kid moved his forearm a few inches and groaned with pain. "Nothing broken, but Jesus, it hurts," he said. "Damn, that guy's good.  He must have a rifle with a telescopic sight of some sort. He's way the hell up on that ridge, our popguns aren't gonna reach halfway." He sank back against the rock and closed his eyes. Heyes watched him anxiously, wishing for his flask of whiskey, which was in his saddlebag, and his extra canteen, which was in the same place.

 

They were silent for a while. The wind sighed eerily over the dead, rocky landscape, and Heyes looked around the red cliffs and empty sky for inspiration. None came.

 

He thought back to the crowded saloon last night, the carefree Saturday night poker game and the piano playing loudly. The music had drowned the voices of the two men who sat at a table in the rear, but he could see them all evening, eyeing him and the Kid, then whispering together. They had looked harmless enough, one tall and thin with a hawk nose, one with a large belly rolling over his belt. But he remembered them frowning and discussing something with more heat than a casual saloon conversation warranted.

 

He looked around to find that Kid's eyes were open and watching him. Kid didn't have to say, "So what do we do now?" Heyes answered the question before he asked it.

 

"I have no idea." Heyes rubbed his hands, sticky with blood, on his trouser leg.  "There's nothing to do, I guess. We can't stick a toe out, or the guy'll shoot it off.  Wait till night, I guess." 

 

"Must be two hours till noon," said Kid, glancing up at the fierce sun. Heyes pulled out his watch. "Ten-fifteen," he agreed. 

 

"Long time till dark," Kid went on. "Plenty of time for him to circle around.  All he has to do is stroll a half mile over to that ridge there to get a better angle, and we're sitting ducks."

 

"We'll have to keep track of where he is so we can move," Heyes agreed. He took off his hat, and held it above the rock.  Nothing happened. He looked around for a stick or something to wave it on, but the ground they sat on was sheer rock.  He waved the hat again. Nothing happened. Heyes put the hat back on, and cautiously lifted his head over the edge of rock. Instantly there was a sharp crack, and he flung himself down, the hat blown several yards away.

 

Kid grasped Heyes's shoulder with his good hand. "You okay?" he demanded, shaking Heyes roughly.

 

"Yeah, yeah," said Heyes, gasping for breath. Kid released him, and flopped back against the rock.  "That, as they say, was close," Heyes said shakily. 

 

"Don't try that again," said Kid, panting.

 

"Don't worry," said Heyes. He could see the hat sitting on the rock, a neat hole though the front. It was just out of reach, but he didn't feel inclined to stick his hand out to get it. "So what do we do?" he asked slowly. "Dig a hole? Make a run for it? Hope he dies of a heart attack? I'm fresh out of ideas." 

 

Kid shook his head. "We're in a box," he said slowly. "The lid's on tight."

 

Heyes looked up at the sun, high overhead. It was too bright to stare at, and he looked away, blazing spots floating in front of his eyes.  The sun was a long way above the horizon. He knew that eventually it would sink in a blaze of glorious colors, and for the first time in his life he seriously considered the thought that he might not be there to see it.  He felt a chill as he imagined the dusk settling, and dragged his mind away from the thought of two dead bodies sprawled in the shadows of the great red boulder.

 

He glanced at Kid, who was sitting with his back to the rock, his gun clutched tightly in his left hand.  Flies buzzed around the wound, and Heyes waved them away, wishing again for a canteen. He knew he'd be wishing a lot harder long before nightfall. "There's not a lot of options," he said out loud. "You're right, the lid on this one is pretty tight."

 

"We just have to wait," Kid said, not meeting his eyes. "Sooner or later, he'll circle around, take a shot, then we'll move. Then he'll have to do it all over again.  It's got to get dark eventually."

 

"He's a damn good shot," Heyes pointed out. "You think he's gonna shout a warning? We're ducks in a shooting gallery here."

 

"Well, you come up with something better," snapped Kid. "I don't think much of your digging a hole idea."

 

Heyes glanced at the solid rock they sat on and smiled grimly. "There's a third option," he said. Kid made no reply.  "We could give up," Heyes said quietly.

 

Kid looked at him fiercely, and Heyes could tell they'd both been having the same thoughts. "Twenty years in jail?" Kid demanded. There was a long pause. Heyes glanced up at the sun again, which didn't appear to have moved a fraction of an inch in the burning sky. "I've thought about it," Kid admitted in a low voice, staring at the gun in his lap. "I've thought about it a lot, what I'd do if I ever got boxed in like this. But I'd rather be dead."

 

"Yeah, but there's a long way between here and jail," Heyes pointed out. "It's a day's ride into town, we could escape."

 

"Maybe," said Kid.

 

"Maybe," Heyes agreed. "It's a chance."

 

Kid shook his head. "He doesn't seem too friendly so far. What's to stop him from just blowing our heads off if we surrender, we're worth as much dead as alive. Why should he take a chance on us escaping?"

 

"Well..." Heyes began. An earsplitting crack sounded, and splinters of rock exploded out of the rock between them. They dived away from the bullet, and scrambled in opposite directions.  Kid ran a  few steps, then fell to his knees, clutching his arm.  Heyes, coming around the other side of the rock, grabbed Kid's good arm and pulled him into the shelter of the boulder.  They lay side by side, panting.

 

"Okay," said Kid, getting his breath. "This is good."

 

"Good?" Heyes demanded.

 

"Yeah," said Kid.  "Damn this arm. It's good. Now we know where the bastard is.  Took him an hour to get over there, so now we're okay for an hour."

 

"Oh, good," said Heyes. "I've got a deck of cards in my pocket."

 

They lay flat, thinking their own thoughts. After a while Heyes rolled over on his back and looked up at the sky. It was blank, washed over with a faint haze of white cloud that did nothing to cool the earth below. White hot, thought Heyes, as he lay gazing upwards. Vultures circled around lazily, black V's tilting slowly in the windless air. Vultures could smell blood from half a mile, he'd heard. He jerked his mind away from the vultures and sat up. "You sure you want to wait here..." he began, when a shot reverberated and whined off the rock near his head. They both leaped up and scrambled around the rock again.

 

"What the hell," panted Heyes. "How'd he manage that? He was on the opposite side ten minutes ago, we can't be in range yet."

 

Another shot cracked out, and hit the rock above their heads, and they once more dived away from it. "That's a different gun," said Kid, lying flat. "There's two of the bastards." Their eyes met.  Heyes could see his own hopelessness mirrored in Kid's white face. "It's okay," said Kid stubbornly. "We're okay for a while."

 

"That's what you said three seconds before the last shot," Heyes snarled.

 

"No," said Kid, his eyes tracing the paths the bullets had taken. "The first shot came from there, the second from there, we're okay on this side until they circle around."

 

"How long will that take?" said Heyes. "Five minutes?"

 

Kid glanced around, chewing his lip. "No, they've got to get right over to the ridge there," he said. "Twenty minutes at least."

 

"Twenty minutes," repeated Heyes, glancing at his watch. "May I remind you that it's all of eleven-thirty, it won't be dark for about ten hours.  We can't keep dancing around this rock for much longer."

 

Kid shook his head mulishly. "I'm not giving up.  There's no point, they'd shoot us anyway." Heyes drew breath to argue, then let it out in a hopeless sigh. Kid was right. If the bounty hunters had been interested in live prisoners, they wouldn't be shooting from so far away, and plainly shooting to kill.

 

A shot sounded, and they both leaped up, tensed and ready to run. But no answering whine sounded, no rock chips split off the boulder. "That's funny," said Kid, staring up at the tall, silent ridges of red rock.