“I haven’t heard any plan yet,” Bowen said.

“That’ll come.”

“It’ll come right now, or I don’t.”

“I’ll tell you part of it,” Manring paused. Then, his voice was lower as he said, “You know what happens at the end of the canyon.”

“We climb,” Bowen said.

“That’s right. Have you figured how we’re going to cut a road up through the rocks?”

“It isn’t my problem.”

“It wasn’t mine either,” Manring said, “till I was taken on Renda’s survey party. That was over a month ago…when we planned this swing through the canyon. We got up to the end and he says, ‘How in hell we going to get out of here?’ Right then is when the idea came. I said to him, ‘What’re you worrying about those big rocks for when you got a gang of Yuma boys on your payroll?’ He stopped to listen and I told him how at Yuma we cut whole cell blocks out of granite and shaped them just right. He thought about it and then says, ‘You’re making work for yourself, aren’t you?’ That’s when I told him. I said, ‘Well, it’s not so bad if you got dynamite.’ ”

“So he’s going to use it?” Bowen prompted.

“It’s already ordered,” Manring said. “Should be here by next week.”

“Earl, are you going to tell me you talked him into using dynamite?”

“I put the idea in his head. You can call it whatever you want.”

“You think,” Bowen said, “he would’ve plotted down that canyon without planning on dynamite?”

“Renda don’t know anything about road building!”

Bowen paused. “Let me ask you something else, Earl. Do you know how to use dynamite?”

“I saw enough of it at Yuma.”

“That’s right, you saw it…but there’s only one man here you’re sure ever worked with it. That’s where I figure in. You’ve got the plan, but you need me to set it off.”

“You’re taking on a lot of credit all of a sudden,” Manring muttered. “Next you’ll tell me you were planning on it all the time.”

“No,” Bowen admitted. “I never thought of breaking out of here as being worth blowing somebody up.”

“Well, think about it now,” Manring said quietly. “Think about this afternoon, the way that gunhand busted Chick Miller…think about them watching you, looking for the littlest excuse to bust you…and let me know what you come to.”

That same evening, Lizann Falvey learned from her husband that a convict had been killed. She thought of Bowen, and for some time was very sure that he was dead. Willis did not know the convict’s name. He knew only what Renda had told him-that a convict had tried to run away and Brazil had no choice but to shoot him. By then, the convicts were locked in the barracks for the night and Lizann had no way of finding out whether or not the man had been Bowen.

She considered asking Renda directly, but almost immediately decided against it. Her interest in Bowen could arouse Renda’s suspicion and she could not risk any word or action which might do that. Not now. Not with the plan that would enable her to leave here already in her mind. She had thought it out carefully and deliberately. It was the simplest way, as far as Lizann’s part in it was concerned, and it offered the least chance of error. Still, the decision to carry out the plan remained with Bowen.

The next morning Lizann was up before six o’clock and standing at the window as the wagons made their slow turn coming away from the barracks. There. Bowen was in the third wagon. She watched him until the wagon passed through the gate, relieved now in knowing she would not have to go to the trouble of-as she heard it in her own mind-breaking in a new man. Now her only problem was to get Bowen alone.

The opportunity came the next Sunday. It came unexpectedly and Lizann was almost unprepared for it.

Willis had left for Fuegos by midmorning. For almost an hour after that Lizann gazed out of the window watching the convicts standing along the front of the barracks. Bowen was among them. Bowen, and next to him, the man who had been with him in the punishment cell.

He could be sent to the stable again, Lizann thought. She went into the bedroom and changed to her riding suit, but when she returned, Bowen was still there.

Be patient, she thought. But even while thinking this she decided to take her horse out.

Frank Renda closed his door behind him as Lizann stepped outside.

“Going for a ride?” Renda asked.

How do you answer a question like that? Lizann thought and decided not to answer it at all. She started across the compound and Renda fell in next to her.

“You’re not very sociable today.”

“Is today different from any other?”

“It’s Sunday. The day of rest…Rest for most.” Renda was looking toward the convicts. His eyes found Bowen and Pryde and he called out to them. As they came toward him Renda said, “But no rest for these two.”

“The stable?” Pryde asked.

“What’d you think?” Renda said. “That’s your permanent Sunday job.”

Inside the stable, Lizann watched Pryde pick up a broom and walk down to the far end. She heard Renda say to Bowen, “Saddle up my chestnut.”

As he moved to Renda’s stall, Lizann said, “Ask him to saddle mine, too.”

Renda glanced at her. “You like to be waited on, don’t you?”

“No more than you do,” Lizann answered.

Renda shrugged, looking at Bowen then. “Do what she says.”

Now-Lizann thought.

“Frank,” she said, turning to leave the stable. “Have him bring it over to me…I’ve forgotten something.”

She walked out, not waiting to hear Renda’s answer, then took her time crossing the yard, glancing indifferently from the convicts to the guard at the main gate. She entered her adobe, leaving the door open, then hurried into the bedroom. From the top drawer of the dresser, she took the.25-caliber Colt revolver and returned with it to the front room. As she did, looking out through the open door and across the wide expanse of yard, she saw Renda ride out of the stable toward the gate. A few minutes later Bowen came out leading her sorrel.

Lizann smiled and she was thinking: Frank, if you knew how easy you were making it.

She remained back out of the doorway, now holding the revolver at her side, hidden in the folds of her full riding skirt. Bowen approached the ramada, then halted at the edge of the shade. He could not yet see her, but he called out, “Here’s your horse.”

Lizann answered, “Come inside.”

Bowen hesitated. He glanced toward the barracks, then let the reins fall and entered the adobe. He nodded, seeing Lizann. “You worked that good.”

“Thank you.” Lizann smiled momentarily. “Where is Frank going?”

“He didn’t say.”

“He made it very easy for us.”

“I can still get caught in here. Brazil’s about.”

Lizann moved toward him. “I heard a man was killed the other day and I thought it was you. I was almost sure it was.”

“If it was,” Bowen said, “you’d have to break in a new man.”

Lizann hesitated. “I’m never quite sure what you’re going to say.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

She moved closer to him and put her hand on his arm. “I was thinking of you, Corey. Not just a man who’s willing to help me.”

Bowen said nothing.

Lizann’s eyebrows raised. “What happened to our beautiful friendship?”

“It’s as beautiful as it ever was.”

“Do you still want to help me?”

“If it means helping myself.”

Lizann gazed up at him, studying his face. “You seem farther away, Corey. Do you feel I’m not acting like a lady?”

“I haven’t been picturing you as one.”

She dropped her eyes. “I was, once. Before I was brought here.”

Come on, Bowen thought. Get to the point.

“It isn’t just Renda and having to live here like a prisoner-which is more than any woman should be asked to bear. It’s also my husband.”

“We’ve been over your husband before.”

“I thought you were more understanding.”

“I’m trying to understand one thing-why you brought me in here.”