Hunter said, “We’re true of heart, we have the strength of ten.” She winked at him. “You take the shotgun, and I’ll make sure they don’t shoot a woman.”
“How?”
“I’ll draw their attention with my feminine ways. You yell at them, say you’ll blow them to pieces with the shotgun if they so much as twitch, something like that.”
“This feminine thing to get their attention, you’re not gonna rip open your shirt and flash your boobs at them, are you?”
“No, Raymond. Jeez, some of your ideas, I swear.”
Raymond looked away, hiding the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He bit at his lower lip, “Would have been a great plan.”
“You have anything else?”
“Nah, we go with Plan A.”
“Okay, loan me your flexcuffs.”
Raymond dug into his cargo-pant thigh pockets, “You got it.”
She put them with her own, winked at Raymond, and left him on the ridge.
Raymond said, “Girl doesn’t even realize she’s giving me more gray hairs doing this.” He smiled a little, then started off the ridge.
Chapter 7
Hunter crept off the ridge and hit the bottom of the flat in a dog-trot, going on a path that would circle by the other parties while keeping small hills and ridges between her and them. She picked up her speed, going at an eight-minute-per-mile pace over bushes and weaving around cactus and yuccas. She stumbled once when she stepped on a baseball-sized rock and it rolled under her foot, but she flailed her arms and regained balance without falling.
Hunter rounded another pile of boulders and moved to the base of the ridge where the two gunmen waited in ambush. She slowed and went up the incline in a silent walk, every sense alert. She knew Raymond was working his way down to pin the back-packers between them, and hopefully, get the others as well. If she pulled this part off, they would be off to a good start.
She was so close that their voices reached her. Ben said, “Let’s shoot the kid first.”
Anselmo said, “Why? He’s got nothing. The others have the dope, which is mucho money for us.”
“Ellis don’t like him, that’s why.” He sounded angry.
They were silent for almost a minute when Anselmo said, “He’s right below us, you want to do it.”
Hunter moved to the crest, coming up forty feet behind the two men. She ghosted forward on silent feet until she stood ten feet behind them.
Both men were preoccupied with sighting on the targets in the draw and didn’t hear her.
Hunter said, “Not a good idea.”
Both men hunched as if hit, then Ben turned and swung with his rifle, ready to bring it up and shoot from the hip. As his barrel first rose, he saw the muzzle of Hunter’s pistol already pointed at him.
He froze, the rifle barrel still pointed at the ground. Her eyes were grim, scary, and she stepped forward. From Ben’s perspective of four feet away and directly in front of her, he could see her left eye aligned on the pistol’s sights, the barrel pointed directly at his face.
She didn’t blink, didn’t say anything.
Anselmo dropped his rifle and held up his hands. Hunter’s eyes remained on Ben Zambrano as she tossed a flexcuff to Anselmo. He slipped them on his wrists and pulled it tight with his teeth.
“You gonna do something?” She asked Ben. The pistol didn’t waver. “Make up your mind.”
Ben felt paralyzed, like he was locked in cement.
She said, “Put it on the ground and raise your hands or I’m going to shoot. You’ve got five seconds. Five.”
Ben looked at her.