Page 26 of Coyote

Linc crouched by the fire and held his hand above it. "Still warm."

I worked the camp without touching anything. One cup, one plate, one bedroll. The food tin held enough for one man. A single set of boot prints moved between the fire, bedroll, and rocks.

Linc looked around. "Where's the other one?"

I walked back to the entrance and found the large heel in the dirt. The camp hadn't been left in a hurry. The man had walked out north less than an hour ago, leaving a trail as easy to follow as the one that brought us there. Everything in the bowl pointed the same direction, and that was convenient. Too convenient.

My skin tightened across my shoulders. I worked the camp again, slower this time. The map was new. No dust beneath it. The gas cans were empty but didn't smell like fuel. The coffee pot held warm water darkened with dirt.

This wasn't a camp. It was a picture of one.

"Linc."

He stood. "What did you find?"

"One man came out here and built this for us to find." I kicked the nearest gas can. It rolled hollow across the dirt. "The other never crossed the caliche."

Linc looked toward the entrance. "You found his prints after."

"I found the big man's. I assumed the smaller one kept stepping inside them."

The hard ground came back to me. The twisted juniper branch. The large heel waiting clean on the far side. The smaller man had split off where the ground became unreadable. He had turned south over rock while his partner laid a trail toward this camp.

"They didn't draw us away because I made a mistake," I said. "They put two men inside our fence and gave me a trail aimed at the service road. They knew I'd have to follow."

Linc's face paled. "Big John."

The words hit me low in the gut.

John was at the ranch. Hurt. Unarmed. Sleeping in a bunkhouse with too many windows and a stolen motorcycle sitting under a tarp two buildings away.

I ran.

The rocks tore at my boots as I dropped down off the ridge. Nimue lay cold and tight at my throat the whole way down. Linc stayed close behind me, the rifle knocking against his back.

The horses heard us and snapped alert in the wash.

I grabbed the mare's saddle horn, jammed one foot into the stirrup, and swung up before she settled. Pain flashed through my knee. I ignored it and pulled her around.

Linc reached for the radio. "Rafe. Rafe, come back. North patrol returning. Possible attack at the ranch."

Static. He tried again. Nothing. The ridge still stood between us and the signal.

I dug my heels into the mare. She came off the rock and hit dirt running. Linc shouted something after me. I didn't answer him. He had his own horse and he could find the ranch in the dark.

John was miles off with no idea anything was coming. Hold on, big man.

The wash opened up in front of us. I flattened down over her neck and gave her all of it. Her mane whipped my face and I didn't feel it. They'd baited me with my own work. Laid a trail because they knew my nose would do the rest, and I'd followed it like a dog while they walked in behind me.

Fine. They knew what I did for this ranch. They were about to learn what else I did.

I was going home to kill every man who had touched what was mine.

I woke with a knife against my throat and a man I didn't know sitting on my chest. Two more stood behind him, all three wearing the Javelinas' cut.

Fuck.

"Sleeping Beauty wakes up." The man on top of me grinned. He had a gap between his front teeth and smelled like whiskey, cigarettes, and old sweat. "Morning, big man."