"Pays $50 each if you make it there and back without losing the goods." "What's the cargo?" "None of your business. You in or out?" Cole looked at the women.
Kaya nodded. Sani's expression didn't change. Lyra shrugged. "We're in," Cole said.
"Good. We leave tomorrow at first light. Don't be late." The run to Canyon Bend took a week, and it was every bit as tense as Hoskins had promised. The trail wound through rocky terrain perfect for ambushes, and twice they spotted riders shadowing them from a distance.
Each time, Cole and the others made a show of checking their weapons, and each time the riders melted back into the hills without making a move. On the fifth day, their luck ran out. It happened at a narrow pass where the trail squeezed between two sheer rock walls, the kind of place where even an idiot could see trouble coming. Cole had been riding point, eyes scanning the ridges above, when he saw the glint of sunlight on metal. "Ambush!" he shouted just as the first shot rang out.
The bullet punched into the side of the lead wagon, splintering wood. The driver cursed, hauling on the reins as the horses reared. Cole spurred his mount forward, pulling his rifle free, and fired twice at the ridge where he'd seen the glint. More shots answered, kicking up dirt around the wagons. Kaya was already off her horse, using the second wagon for cover, her own rifle up and steady.
Lyra had circled around to the rear, watching their backs, while Sani stayed mounted, trying to calm the panicked horses. "How many?" Kaya shouted. "At least six." Cole fired again, saw a figure stumble back on the ridge. "Maybe more."
The bandits had them pinned. Cole could see the strategy: keep them trapped in the pass, pick them off one by one, then take the wagons at their leisure. It was smart, too smart for the usual frontier rabble. "We need to move!" Hoskins yelled from the third wagon. "Sitting here gets us killed!"
"Moving gets us killed faster," Cole snapped back. But Hoskins was right. They couldn't stay pinned down. Cole scanned the terrain, looking for anything they could use. The pass widened about 50 yards ahead, opening into a rocky clearing that would give them room to maneuver.
If they could get the wagons moving, if they could break through the initial volleys, they might have a chance. "Lyra!" he called. "Can you drive a wagon?" "Never tried." "Now's your chance."
He pointed at the lead wagon. "Get it moving. Head for the clearing." Lyra didn't argue. She scrambled up into the driver's seat, grabbed the reins, and whipped the horses into motion. The wagon lurched forward, wheels clattering over stone.
Immediately, gunfire intensified, focused on the moving target. Cole laid down covering fire, working the lever on his rifle as fast as his hands could move. "Go!" he shouted to the others. "Follow her!" Sani drove the second wagon, Kaya riding alongside, firing methodically at the ridges.
Hoskins took the third, cursing a steady stream as bullets whined past his head. Cole stayed on horseback, weaving between the wagons, trying to make himself a harder target while keeping the bandits' attention divided. A shot grazed his shoulder, burning like someone had dragged a hot iron across his skin. He ignored it, fired back, and saw another bandit drop. The clearing was close now, maybe 30 yards.
Twenty. Ten. They burst into the open, and Cole immediately shouted for the wagons to circle. It was a defensive formation, classic and effective, turning the wagons into a mobile fort. The women understood instantly, maneuvering the wagons into position, while Hoskins added the third to complete the circle.
The bandits came charging down from the ridges, thinking the fight was over. They were wrong. Cole dropped two of them before they made it halfway. Kaya took out another. Lyra, crouched behind a wagon wheel, fired with shaking hands and somehow hit a man square in the chest.