Chewing on a bit of jerky, I was sitting up against the edge of a boulder, eyeing the rim. It was tantalizingly close, but I wasn't sure what waited on the other side. Was it a sheer drop-off? Trees, brush, rock...or just open nothingness that left me an easy target? I was contemplating my options when a man stepped out into the open between two trees.

He was below me a good fifty yards, facing away. Just when I saw him his head turned, and our eyes met. He moved as I did, sunlight glinting off the barrel of his rife. The sharp whap of a slug went past my ear, even as the Sharps roared. He threw up his hands, staggering back to fall. Red spread on his shirtfront.

I was expecting a hail of retaliation bullets, but none came, and suddenly I was moving. They'd heard the shots but instead of firing, they'd pinpointed my location and were converging on it. Taking a chance, knowing I had to risk it, I leapt to my feet and bolted for the rim. Just as I went over, a bullet clipped the rock inches from my hand, but then I was scrambling down the other side.

This wasn't a game. When people take to fighting someone is going to get hurt. It never occurs to those involved that it could be their blood glistening in the sun, soaking into the ground. No, in foolish optimism, it is always someone else who will get hurt, someone else who will die. Well, now they were aware they weren't safe, but as vulnerable as I was. The man I'd killed hadn't figured that out until it was too late.

Ahead of me was a bare stretch, free of any sort of cover. It was ragged, an ugly, barren place to cross, with a treacherous slant where one misstep could mean my end. Yet, if I could get across, the far side looked thick with trees for a long way. There had to be a place to rest close by, for I was near done in.

Hands slick with sweat, I took a chance and tucked the rifle into the pack on my back. I would not be able to hold it and keep my balance at the same time. The pistol was still at my hip. Very carefully, I headed out onto the bare slide. It reminded me of crossing a stream on stepping stones, never certain if your foothold would slip or not.

I was shaking, for the slide, if I lost my footing, was steep, leading to a jumbled pile of jagged rock some two hundred feet down. A body likely wouldn't get up after that. My boot slipped once, and I went down, cracking my knee sharply against the stone, but caught my balance, leaning hard upslope to prevent a fall. Pain radiated from the joint as I stood, continuing at a hobble, cursing silently.

Yet I was almost there. Shade beckoned to me from a few meters away when the high whine of a bullet flew past my head. My heart lurched but I dared not hurry now, still cautious of the steep grade. Another tugged at the edge of my skirt, then another, but by then I was across.

Faint shouts told me they were calling the others, regrouping to swarm my location like wasps. In the trees though, I was safe for now. If they wanted to ride, they'd have to go far around to a slim trial I could make out several miles down, winding in switchbacks to the canyon floor. To get me quick, they'd have to cross like I did, and out in the open on the rock, they'd be easy pickings.

Waiting for a while, I scanned the rim but saw nothing. Whatever they were planning, none were keen on being the first to show himself. Deciding to gain distance, I limped on, following a thin game trail not five inches wide. My wounds burned, starting to bleed again. If I didn't find a place to hole up, I'd drop where I was and make it easy for them.

That night I made dry camp among the trees, wedged between the face of a rock and a fallen trunk. Rolling into the blanket, rifle in hand, I lay looking up at the night sky.

It was so close the stars looked to be hanging just inches from my bed. Somehow though, the beauty was lost on me. I was tired, and mighty sick of running. Rabid coyotes had an easier time than this. Closing my eyes, I blew out a deep breath, letting my body relax into sleep. My last thought was simple.

They'd hunted me- now it was my turn.

Waking, I felt mighty sore- and mean. Ugliness was climbing up in me. What had I done? Lived, when I should have died? No doubt they had me surrounded now, and I'd not even rightly discovered who 'they' were. All I had was suspicions, and it was mighty little to go on. I was craving action, itching to take the fight to them, yet the odds were theirs.

They knew the country, there was more of them, and I was hurt pretty bad. Still, I meant to make them pay. In this game, they'd bought chips and I was about to spin the wheel. So mad I wasn't hungry, I nonetheless put a strip of jerky between my teeth before climbing out of my temporary nest.

Adjusting the Sharps so the butt was close to my hip, I gingerly started along the slope, easing my way as the grade got steeper and steeper. Now and then I had to cling to dry branches and brush to keep from slipping, my knee aching fierce but I made it to the canyon floor mostly unscathed.

Stepping from the shade of the trees I froze, startled. Less than ten feet away was a full-grown tom bobcat. The spread between his ears was my entire hand, and I gulped. Though small by predatory standards, a bobcat was still a vicious killing machine. Like with most cats I'd run up against, I had an ace up my sleeve. There ain't a bigger coward anywhere than a cat, lessen'n he's hurt.

With a one-track brain, you hurt a cat you best scramble for cover because they'll tear up the country to get you. When that tom laid back his ears, snarling, lantern eyes fixed on mine, I squared my shoulders. I had to bluff him, and it was now or never.

Tobias's long knife was in the pack, the rifle slung across my shoulders, which left the pistol at my hip. If I had to, could I get it out in time? We stared at one another, that tom and me, trying to outprove the other, to see who'd flinch first. His snarl increased in volume.

"Hit the trail," I said firm. "You want no part of me."

He turned his head, avoiding my eyes now, and I was forced to just stand, waiting him out. I could have moved a bit to one side, edging around him, but figured any motion would be an invitation to attack. So I was more than happy to let him set his own time. Then I smelled smoke.

That bobcat smelled it too, and like a flash was gone. I backed up a little, staying in the trees, looking around. Nearly a mile off, up toward the canyon rim was a projecting point. The shade created a finger that stretched down to the floor and somewhere about two-thirds of the way, I saw the grey haze of a campfire.

It made me mad, them enjoying warm beds, warm meals, and hot coffee, and then a grim smile crept across my lips. Unslinging my Sharps, I kept a wary eye out for that bobcat as I moved toward the fire. Men would be gathered around it, distracted instead of being alert. I had an idea it was the men hunting me, for who else would it be? Only thing, I couldn't say that for sure and Pa had always stressed that shooting blind is plum foolish.

Moving slow, each step made with care, I worked my way through the dense trees toward the smoke. The scent of frying bacon and fresh coffee hit my nostrils first, and my stomach answered. Stopping, I dug dry biscuits and jerky from my pack, taking my time as I studied that fire. Washing it down with tepid water from my canteen, which was now empty, I stood, wiping my mouth.

It was cooler here, the barest touch of breeze carrying a hint of water. Below me, closer to the canyon bottom, must be a creek or river. I'd find that later. Right now, my attention was on the camp. I had no idea if they'd ridden in or chanced crossing the slope above me on foot. First off, I decided to scout around and see if I could locate their stock.

The string of horses was tethered some sixty feet from the fire, but back into the trees. My bay was among them. Skirting around them, I studied the men. The number of them made my mouth go dry, for there was only half the number as before. They'd not quit, and I'd not killed that many, so where were they? Premonition snaked through me, realizing the group had likely split in half, attempting to surround me, and block off all retreat.

Most were close to the fire, drinking coffee, or finishing off the bacon I'd smelled earlier. None were talking. The only face I recognized was Dash, and no one stood out as particularly in charge. I began to wonder at it, if perhaps they were just all partners in a claim-jumping scheme gone wrong. How had Tobias got caught up with such men?

Right then one of them stood, half bending to fill his coffee cup. His head turned to say something to the man next to him and our eyes met. He stayed frozen a mite longer than I did. Right when he dropped his cup, scrambling for his gun I shot him through the brisket. I'd not really meant to kill him, but his abrupt move turned him into the bullets' path and he dropped.

The man next to him leapt up, half spinning as he lifted his pistol. My Sharps barked loud and he went down with a half scream, his arm broken through the elbow. You never saw such a still bunch of men, although their eyes was alive with hate. I could feel their itch to go for their guns.

"You can have it either way," I told them softly, trying to quell my fury. I wanted to kill them. "You came lookin' for trouble, now you got it." My eyes landed on each man in turn, resting a moment longer on Dash. "I just spent a cold, hungry, downright uncomfortable night on the slope yonder 'cause of you boys. Saw the smoke, figured I'd drop in for a spell, share your fire. Objections?"

No one said a word, so I moved carefully to where I could cover them all if need be.

"It's a right beautiful mornin' for it, so if anyone has the stomach, open the ball to dance. Otherwise, get shed of them guns. I'll not give a warning, nor the benefit of the doubt. I'm in a shoot-first mood, so move careful."

It was like watching them tickle the underchin of a rattlesnake. Real slow, mighty careful, they unhooked gun belts, gingerly tossing them away. They didn't like it, I could feel the hate in them, burning from their eyes, but they took it. The other choice was the maw of my Sharps. My rifle pointed to one in particular, even as I kept an ear out for the other group.

"Fetch me a plate of that bacon, and the grease bread. Easy like, then rinse me a cup and fill it with coffee."

Well, I made them take it, sitting there watching while I ate and drank my fill. Finally, I swallowed the last of the coffee and dropped the cup.

"You open your ears, 'cause I'm sayin' this once. I been on the dodge for some days now, an' my back's up. I don't take to bein' pushed, none of my kin does. You got no call to dry gulch me, leave me for dead, murder my cousin then hunt me down like some rabid wolf.

"I'll say it plain. Back off. This is your only warnin'. From now on, I hunt you. When I see you, I'll shoot, an' shoot to kill. I aim to scour this canyon, lay up an' just wait for the first man to hit my crosshairs. You wanna keep your scalp, you saddle up an' ride out up the switchback. You got 'til evenin'."

"Fool girl!" One man finally had enough, and sat up, spitting at me. "You ain't got a chance!"

"Mister, I can trim your sideburns with this here rifle." I patted the barrel. "You wanna see for yourself, try it. You wouldn't be the first to guess wrong."

With that, I reminded them I'd already killed three, and now I was turning the tide. There'd be no more running. It was all-out war, an' they'd brought it on themselves. No one made a move as I backed into the trees and walked away trying not to favor my injured leg.

Maybe they had hidden guns, maybe not, but I'd given them something to chew on. It was a sight easier to be the hunter. Once a man is hunted, it strips away a bit of his confidence, knowing each move might be his last. Now, I wasn't counting on my threat to make them leave, but I was hoping at least a few would be less enthusiastic about finding me.

Not wasting time, I headed straight down the canyon to the bottom. There was no place to ride in here really, so I left the bay with them. Running in a cool bed, the creek water was clear and good. I drank down a few swallows, washed my face and neck, then rinsed and filled my canteen. Peace would shatter, of that I had no doubt, but for that moment, I soaked it in.

Birds were chirping quietly off in the high branches of the trees. Squirrels chattered and barked at one another, water chuckling as it tumbled and spilled over stones. The sunlight was warm on my shoulders, the sky above a startlingly clear blue. It was uneasy to feel such a deep, abiding hate in me, but I did.

No murderer, I had given them their chance to walk away, but they wouldn't. A small voice grew louder with each heartbeat, a voice whispering that I hoped they didn't. I wanted them to feel it...that uneasy, overwhelming sense that there was no getting out alive. What I had said to them I meant. From now on, if I saw them, I would kill them.

So I moved on, hearing only the faint murmur of my boots on the soft dirt and leaves. Like a shadow I wound through the trees, heading for high ground. It was in me to see them first.

Working up through the trees, I found a shaded overlook, just long and wide enough for a body, no more. Settling down, I took a small swig of water, eyes roaming the country below. They'd be thinking, planning, stewing, then they would come. Likely after the sun had set, for such men worked better in the shadows, creeping along to snatch life from the unsuspecting. They'd find me a difficult prey, so I waited.

Mid-afternoon I saw movement away in the trees. Squinting slightly, I saw a handful of men riding, heading along the canyon floor toward the switchback trail. It was a small satisfaction, but that cut their numbers, at least. I watched them for a moment, ensuring they were truly leaving.

When they hit the clearing, I found it odd that they were not hurrying, nor taking their time. Odd too, that they didn't look right or left, but straight ahead. An uncomfortable feeling crept up my spine, my stomach jumping. Near the edge of the trees, a man finally moved, just slightly, his gaze sweeping past the rock I lay on. He didn't pause, nor look again, but I'd the distinct feeling he'd known I was about.

Right then I smelled a trap.