They ran for the pass that wound through the rocks beyond the end of the canyon, followed its narrow, shadowed course and as they came out Bowen lighted and dropped another stick. They were running down the length of the meadow when it exploded behind them.

Now the Mimbres from the other side, Bowen told himself. He turned to stand in the open, in the thick grama grass that moved in slow waves with the wind.

Manring turned, hesitating. “Come on!”

Bowen motioned to him to go on. “I’ll catch up.” He turned back to face the rocks, hearing Manring moving through the tall grass, the hurried swishing sound becoming fainter. This is something, he thought. Covering for him. No, you’re covering for yourself too. This is the way to do it. It’s a once-and-for-all thing. If it works. If they scare easy.

He saw them then-the six riders slightly off to the right coming down through the rocks. They had seen him, he was sure of that, and now they had reached the meadow and were coming directly for him.

You can spot them by the way they ride, Bowen thought. Straight on and no games this time. All business.

He struck a match with his thumbnail, held it as he judged the distance closing between him and the Mimbres, then touched it to the dynamite and threw the stick.

It struck and exploded twenty yards in front of the Mimbres, and they swerved right and left. They started circling back out of range and Bowen threw the last stick, arching it higher into the air. It exploded closer than the first one and the next moment they were galloping back up the slope, winding through the rock formations.

Bowen ran on through the meadow, came out of it and started up the slope ahead of him. Near the wagon road that skirted the shoulder of the hill, he caught up with Manring.

“Now Pinaleño,” Bowen said.

Frank Renda had descended the five-shadowed grade and was approaching the camp when the main charge went off in the canyon. He heard it faintly in the distance and in his mind saw a section of wall high above the shelf buckle out, seem to rise and hang suspended, then disappear into thick dust-as the previous blasts had appeared from the floor of the canyon.

But he pictured this for only a moment. His thoughts returned to Lizann Falvey. She was the business at hand. Something to be dealt with now. You let a woman get a little bit sure of herself and pretty soon she makes you sick to your stomach watching her pretend she’s a man. Lizann had gone far enough. Riding into the canyon had been, in fact, too far.

He had forbidden her ever to come near the road construction. “Ride anywhere you want, but stay away from the convicts when you got a horse.” That meant stay out of the canyon. But this morning she had come down the new road-telling him without words what she thought of his authority.

Maybe she was bluffing. Maybe she was only trying to worry him. But she seemed too sure of herself. Maybe she did have a plan. Whichever it was, he intended to find out now.

There was no guard at the gate. He had shifted one of the night men to day work when the dynamiting began. Why, he was not sure; but it seemed to him there should be another guard on hand while they were working with high explosives.

The night man was sleeping now and the gate was open. As Renda passed into the compound, the sound of the second explosion reached him. He reined in abruptly and sat listening.

An echo?

That’s all. He relaxed, nudging the big chestnut to a walk, thinking: Brazil’s there. He’ll shoot if anybody even looks at him sideways.

He dismounted in front of the Falveys’ quarters and entered the open doorway without knocking. As he did, Lizann came out of the bedroom. She had changed from her riding suit and was fastening the top buttons of her dress. She showed no surprise at seeing Renda.

“What do you want now?”

“I saw you in the canyon a while ago.”

“You rode all the way in to tell me that?”

“I told you never to go near there.”

She nodded. “Three or four times.”

“I’m not going to tell you again.”

“That’s fine.”

“Next time you go in the punishment cell.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You want to find out, go ahead.”

Lizann smiled faintly. “Frank, do you honestly think you’re frightening me?”

“If I’m not, you’re the one’s going to suffer for it.”

“I don’t think so,” Lizann said. She moved across the room to the table, poured water into a glass from an earthenware pitcher, then sat down. She crossed her legs, sitting sideways to the table and sipped at the glass. “Frank,” she said, lowering the glass, “I’d ask you to stay, but I couldn’t think of anything more unpleasant to have happen.”

Renda moved toward her. “Lizzy, you’re bluffing, aren’t you.”

“About you being unpleasant?”

“About leaving here.”

A smile touched Lizann’s mouth. “Why do you think I’m bluffing?”

“Because you know what I’d do to you if you ever tried.”

“Has it kept you awake-thinking about it?”

“If you’re not bluffing, Lizzy, you’ll wish you were.”

“Frank, stop trying to sound menacing. You don’t frighten me anymore. I’m leaving here…there’s nothing you can do about it, and the sooner you realize it the better.”

He moved to the table, raised his hip to sit on the edge and folded his arms. Looking down at her he asked, “How’re you going to do it?”

Lizann took a sip of water and placed the glass down carefully. She had expected him to show his temper, but he remained calm, deliberately in control of himself. After a moment she answered, “You’d never guess.”

“I don’t have to,” Renda said. “You’re going to tell me.”

“I’ll tell you this, Frank-which I already have-it’s going to happen and you’ll still be thinking about it when it does.”

Renda watched her. As she raised the glass again, his arms uncoiled and he swept it from her hand. The glass shattered against the floor and Lizann went back from the table, straightening, looking suddenly at Renda with shocked surprise.

Renda’s arms were folded again. “I asked you how’re you going to do it.”

Lizann did not answer, though she continued to stare at him and her hand brushed at the wet stain on her skirt.

“Willis didn’t write to anybody,” Renda said. “You haven’t either, because I’ve seen every letter that’s gone out. What other way is there?”

“You’ll have to find out for yourself,” Lizann said. She saw his arms separating and tried to turn away, but she was not quick enough and the back of his hand stung across her cheek.

As she looked up at him again, Renda said, “I’m going to find out, but not by myself. You see what I mean?”

She could feel her cheek burning as she made herself return his stare. “You intend to force me to tell you?”

Renda shrugged. “One way or the other.”

“You’re not a man…you’re an animal.”

“I’m still asking-”

“You can go to hell.”

She was expecting it, but his hand struck so suddenly there was not time to turn from the blow, and as her head came up he struck her again with his open right hand.

“I’m not fooling, Lizzy!”

She brought her arms up in front of her and as he drew back his hand again she left the chair. Renda was on her as she reached the bedroom door. He pushed her inside and against the near wall, held her against the adobe until she stopped struggling, then stepped back slowly.

“The next time I use my fist!”

“I told you-”

He brought his fist back, but at the last moment he opened it and struck her again with the palm of his hand.

“Say it!”

“I have nothing to say.”

Renda stepped back. He shifted his weight and saw her eyes close as he hit her in the face with his fist. Lizann’s head struck the wall and she started to go down, but Renda caught her and held her against the adobe.