wants you six feet under?’
‘And my son. There’s no way Pete’s going to be released, you see.’
‘But Mullen, he’s a hostage...’
‘Grow up, Pearce. This outfit consists of the most ruthless bunch I met in nine years of service on this frontier. There’s Sam McVie, a bastard who’d murder his mom for a dollar. There’s Barero the Mex, a slimy cheating killer, and there’s some giant character name of Grip, who could take on three men in a fight and win. All these, then John himself, a man so cold he’s known as the Iceman in parts of his territory. He has no... no feelings at all, to my knowledge.’
Dan Mullen looked towards the horizon. There was a heat-haze. The bluffs looked like some orange ship steaming through a dirt-brown sea. ‘Let’s step on, Pearce.’
‘Yeah...... Mullen... I can feel eyes watching me. You feel them?’
‘I’m just happy they ain’t nuthin’ that can spoil my thoughts.’
Dan was gratified that Pearce was quiet after that. Maybe at least one opinion of Dan Mullen was starting to change for the better, he thought.
Dan just knew he had to think of something. He was riding into a lawless place, with his son holed up in there somewhere, and just one man to help him - a storekeeper. In his pocket, he felt the tin star. Even to sense the shape there, pressing against his thigh, was enough to bring back the sensation of having that token of being somebody, being worth something, on his chest.
But he’d throw the thing into the dust if he could know that he would be riding home with his son from this God-forsaken place. To fail was not even a distant nag.
If he could bring his boy back, what did the star matter, he thought to himself.
*
The heat in Broken Sword Canyon was intense. Anything that moved had gone for cover, and as far as any human life was concerned, the day was best given over to a siesta . But in their familiar hide-away, the McVies were restless. They tried to kill time in any way that came to mind.
The few birds of prey that still needed to quell some hunger circled overhead. Each
precious inch of shadow was used by something. Nothing lived long out here. Just to breathe was often the most demanding job of the day.
Everything seemed bored. Even the breeze seemed, to the lawless men in the dark,
an annoyance rather than a welcome relief from the strong heat. But something had to be done to kill some time. Just as the lizards forced themselves to shift a few feet in a hunt for a juicy insect, so the desperate men in their nest stretched and yawned into
a mundane, dragging activity. It was going to be one of the longest days ever out there in the God-forsaken place.
*
Barero kept fingering his gun, pacing up and down and looking out across the plain. Sam and Grip played cards, using a barrel as a table. John McVie himself was so sick of his own company that he brought the two hostages out to talk to. Sara was sullen, and she wouldn’t look him in the eye. Pete was eager to play any mind-games he could if it meant talking his way into slipping into that massive cavern. He knew that the chances were that there was a way out, or a place to fight from, if it came to it. There were certainly weapons. As McVie looked him up and down and asked probing questions, half Pete’s mind was scheming, watching, and was half-way to hatching some sort of plan.
This killer McVie was keen to know a lot about Pete’s father. It was like being grilled by a Ranger. John McVie picked his teeth. He had eaten a good, solid breakfast and was relaxed, unlike his men. His long legs stretched to a sack of meal and his hands were behind his head, supporting his neck. His blue eyes glistened like jewels in that permanently shady spot.
‘Now, Peter... if I may call you that... I want you to tell me something. See, I’m curious about your pop. Seems him and me don’t quite hit it off. We did once, mind, but then he sort of offended me.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Never