Death in the Desert by J. R. Roberts

with a lawman.”
    Ned and Billy thought Chris was stupid if he didn’t know what they were doing was illegal. Why else would they want to kill to keep it a secret?
    â€œOkay,” Steve told them, “first we’ve got to move these horses.”
    â€œWhat about my horse?” Chris asked.
    â€œYou can have Kenny’s.”
    â€œBut my horse was better—”
    â€œWe’ll get it back,” Steve said, “after we kill the Gunsmith. But for now we’ve got to make sure he doesn’t get to these animals.”
    â€œWhy didn’t he just take them while he was here?” Billy asked.
    â€œMaybe he couldn’t handle five horses,” Steve said. “He probably wanted to make some time.”
    â€œHe could have scattered them.”
    â€œThat would have attracted attention.”
    They each grabbed a horse and their saddles—Chris taking Kenny’s horse while grumbling about it—and walked them outside.
    â€œWhere we gonna take them?” Ned asked.
    â€œWe’ll find a place,” Steve said. “But let’s make it quick. We’ve got to stop him before he puts Chris’s horse to use.”
    â€œThere’s a few other stables,” Billy said.
    â€œNo stable,” Steve said. “Someplace he wouldn’t think to look.”
    They all thought a moment, and then Steve said, “I’ve got it. The jail is big enough.”
    â€œThe jail?” Chris asked.
    â€œWhy not? I don’t think he’d look there. Come on. We can walk them so we don’t attract too much attention.”
    â€œWhat if he’s watchin’ us right now?” Chris asked.
    â€œThen it won’t make a difference.”
    â€œToo bad none of us can track,” Ned said. “Or we’d be able to follow him to where he took the horse.”
    â€œForget it,” Steve said. None of them had that talent. “Let’s just get these horses stashed away and then find him, or the little girl.”

THIRTY
    They walked the horse out the back door, where Clint gave Kathy a boost up into the saddle. He then lifted Emily up to sit behind her.
    â€œForty miles,” Clint said. “This horse is fit. Should take you four or five hours if you ride straight through. If Emily can stand it.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” she said. “We’ll make it, and send back help.”
    â€œI want you to ride out the east end of town, and then circle around,” Clint said.
    â€œWhy not just ride west?”
    â€œIt’s shorter this way,” Clint said. “Less chance of being seen.”
    â€œAll right.”
    â€œEmily,” Clint said, “you hold on tight to Kathy, all right?”
    â€œYes, Clint.”
    â€œAnd I’ll see you soon.”
    Emily wrapped her arms around Kathy and pressed her face to her back.
    â€œGo!” Clint said.
•   •   •
    As much as Clint Adams hated the word “coincidence,” it did rear its ugly head from time to time—usually at the wrong time.
    Just as Kathy came out from an alley on horseback, with Emily behind her, Steve Harwick and his three men were walking down Main Street.
    â€œWhat the hell—” Ned said.
    â€œWho’s that?” Billy said.
    â€œNever mind who it is,” Steve said. “Stop her!”
    They all drew their guns.
    â€œDon’t hit the little girl,” Steve said. “Just keep them from leaving town.”
    â€œRight,” Ned said, and they all began firing.
•   •   •
    Kathy heard the gunfire, and her heart leaped into her throat.
    â€œHold on, honey!” she said.
    â€œThey’re shooting at us!” Emily screamed. Her grip on Kathy’s waist tightened.
    Kathy didn’t know what to do, and the horse started to panic.
    She froze.
•   •   •
    Clint was inside city hall when he heard the