El Lazo - The Clint Ryan Series

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  At the head of the column of vaqueros, Inocente and Ramón drew rein and let the heaving horses catch their breath. Ahead, the wide valley they crossed narrowed to a cleft between great slabs of sandstone. The mountains beyond were mottled green and tan, sandpaper oaks and slabs of sandstone. It was a place known to them as Las Piedras Estrachas, the narrow rocks.

  “It is a bad spot,” Inocente said, pushing his hat back off his head, “A very bad spot.”

  “They know we follow,” Ramón said. “But we have no choice. It would take hours to go around.”

  “Perhaps only half of us should go, until we know they do not lie in wait?

  “I will go alone, amigo,” Ramón snapped.

  “No, Ramón, we will all go.” Inocente motioned to the men, and they spurred their horses forward.

  They slowed as they left the cover of the oaks and the sandstone cliffs loomed above them but Ramón clattered on ahead. Inocente and the others studied the narrow climbing trail for a second then charged ahead.