"If you hear shooting, do not move," Sani whispered. "Even if I call for you, do not move until the moon comes up. " Luke watched them go. He felt a sickness in his gut. He knew the tactics of the cavalry. If they broke through the defense, they would scour the walls.
He turned to Ayanna. She was sharpening arrows, her movements jerky and violent. She had not looked at him since she cut his bonds. The anger was still radiating off her, but it was mixed now with a terrified focus. "Ayanna," Luke said.
She did not look up. "Save your breath, Carver. Save it for the shooting. " Luke grabbed her wrist. The contact was startling. She froze, the knife hovering over the arrow shaft.
"Listen to me," Luke said, his voice low and urgent. "The kill box will hold them for a while. But, if they have mountain howitzers, they will blast through the rockfall. " "We have no cannons," Ayanna hissed, pulling her arm away. "We have rocks and hate. " "If they flank," Luke continued, ignoring her hostility, "they will come up the goat trail on the south ridge. It is steep, but a determined man can climb it.
If they get up there, they will be above the children. " Ayanna's eyes widened. She looked up at the south ridge, a jagged spine of rock that looked impassable, but offered a blind spot to the main defenses. "I will watch the ridge," Ayanna said. "No," Luke said. "You are the best shot with the bow.
Nalin needs you at the choke point. I will watch the ridge. " "You? " Ayanna laughed, a brittle sound. "You want to guard our back door? The man who led them to Arroyo Seco? " Luke flinched, but he did not back down. "I am the only one with a Winchester who can hit a target at 300 yd," he said.
"You can trust me, or you can let them take the high ground. Choose, Ayanna. " She stared at him. The history between them, the betrayal, the almost kiss, the shared labor, hung in the air, heavy as the thunderheads gathering in the south. She reached into a pouch at her waist and pulled out a handful of cartridges. She slammed them into his chest.
"Do not miss," she said. The army arrived an hour before sunset. They did not come quietly. They came with the arrogance of a force that expected to sweep up refuse, not fight a battle. A dust cloud, thick and brown, heralded their approach long before the glint of brass buttons or the sheen of carbine barrels became visible.
Captain Silas Thorne rode at the head of the column. He was a man tired of the dust, tired of the heat, and tired of chasing shadows. His intelligence report said this was a camp of stragglers, women, old men, broken remnants. "Keep your eyes open," Thorne shouted to his lieutenant, "but do not expect much of a fight. They will likely scatter like quail. " The column moved into the shadow of the canyon entrance.
The horses' hooves clattered on the stone. The soldiers looked up at the towering walls, uneasily adjusting their grips on their Springfield carbines. They felt the oppression of the rock, the way the canyon seemed to be holding its breath. High above, hidden behind a screen of sagebrush, Nalin watched. She raised her hand.