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might be in for a long wait.”
    â€œDamn it,” Simon cursed under his breath.

PART 2

Chapter 6

    For three days, the Ranger, his cuffed prisoner and Adele Simpson had traveled the high wind-whipped desert terrain. They had ridden their horses at an easy clip, Sam leading the late Earnest Trulock’s spindly-legged roan on a short lead rope behind him. The roan carried Adele Simpson’s travel bag and other personal items tied down on its back. Sam wasn’t going to mention it yet, but the roan would never make it to New Delmar. The desert had a way of culling out the weak, and the horse’s thin legs were not up to the challenge of the rocky, rugged terrain.
    They’d followed trails meandering through swirling, colorful sandstone, through basins, arroyos and deep-cut canyons so sculpted by wind, water and time as to dizzy the eye. Tall, twisted rock formations flanked their passing like silent onlookers from some strange alien universe given to the study of smaller, more transient forms of frail humankind.
    A few feet ahead, Lang stopped his horse and turned it around to face the Ranger as they ascended to a level spot on a trail circling a rocky slope beneath a tall, rugged butte.
    â€œAt least the wind has lain down some,” he said, his hands cuffed to his saddle horn, his wrists crossed.
    â€œKeep moving, Cisco,” Sam said firmly, stopping his horse and waiting until Lang turned and moved his horse out of his way. As the Ranger spoke, his rifle standing on his right thigh, he let the barrel lower and leveled it at the prisoner’s chest. “That’s twice I warned you not to stop in front of me like that. There won’t be a third warning.”
    Ahead of Lang, the woman looked back over her shoulder but kept her horse moving forward. This was no place to have a horse lose its footing. Over eighty yards of loose silt and gravel lay slanting down through spiked rock and land-stuck boulders and spilled into what appeared to be a bottomless gully below.
    Lang drew a deep breath and let it out in a show of submission. He backed his horse a step, turned it and nudged it back along the trail in front of the Ranger, who brought up the rear.
    â€œI don’t know what you’re worried about, Ranger,” Lang said over his shoulder. “I was just making conversation. Not everything I do is an attempt of some sort.”
    â€œYes, it is,” Sam said flatly. “Keep moving. The next time you stop and face down at me topping a trail, I’m putting a bullet in you. You’d better count on it.”
    Riding on, their horses at a walk, Lang called out to Adele, who rode fifteen feet in front of him.
    â€œMiss Adele, why don’t you speak up for me?” he said. “Tell the Ranger here that I’m not out to make a getaway, leastwise not if it would put you in harm’s way.”
    â€œI don’t speak for you, Cisco,” Adele said. “I don’t know what you’re capable of. I’m sure the Ranger sees clear enough what you are and what you’re up to.”
    â€œI have to say,” Lang chuckled, “you two are the most unsociable folks I’ve ridden with for a while.” As he spoke he veered his horse slightly off the inside edge of the trail.
    Testing . . . ,
Sam decided, watching the outlaw’s every move, knowing Lang would take advantage of any little thing he let pass. He would push and test, and push a little harder each time until he’d carefully turned the situation into what he considered to be his favor. Then he would strike. It was coming, Sam reminded himself. He’d seen it too many times before while transporting a prisoner. If he let up for a second, Lang would make his move.
    â€œStay midtrail, Cisco,” the Ranger called out to him.
    They rode on.
    When the trail had passed a long gully and slanted back down off the butte onto a rocky but level trail, the Ranger sidled off