“I know.”
“Your boots are good.”
“Thank you. It might interest you to know that the valise carrying my working-outside-of-town clothes went missing in Saint Louis. I put in a request to have the case sent on to me, but it hasn’t arrived. These clothes were the best I could do at Hennepin’s mercantile. I had more success at the leather goods store.”
“Huh. That’s too bad about your clothes, but I guess losing them was better than losing your instruments.”
“I carried those with me.”
Clay nodded. “Good thing you did. We gonna start again?”
“Soon as you finish the pie.”
“There’s pie?”
“Mm-hmm. Apple. I smelled it when Mrs. Butterworthwas packing our bags.” He took it out, unwrapped it, and gave it to Clay. “Go on. I only asked for the one piece. It’s for you.” Roen began to clean up while Clay made short work of the pie.
Clay wiped his hands on his trousers when he was finished, ignoring the handkerchief Roen held out for him. “Don’t want to get it dirty.” He stood, picked up their bags, and carried them to the horses. “Did you see that?” he asked. The bags were still in his hands. “Something moved over there.” He jerked his chin to the left.
Roen followed the movement with his eyes. “I don’t see anything.”
“Caught it out of the corner of my eye. Not close. Way over there.” Clay hung the bags over the packhorse. “Can I look through the telescope?”
“Sure. Isn’t it likely to be an animal?”
“Coyote, maybe, but I’m thinking something taller. With something that glints.”
Roen gave him the telescope, and Clay stepped away from the animals. Roen threw his coat over a saddle and followed, squinting as he tried to see what had captured Clay’s interest. They saw the flash at the same time. Roen pushed Clay to the ground at the exact moment something hot and stinging creased his upper arm. It was followed immediately by the report from a rifle.
“Someone’s shooting at us!” Clay made himself as small as he could against the ground.
“Roll,” said Roen. “Toward the horses. Now!”
Clay hugged the telescope to his chest and did as directed. He stopped when he was lying between two of the animals. He watched as another shot hit the ground less than an arm’s length from Roen. “He’s shooting at you, not me!”
“Run back up to the shelter where we ate. I’m not moving until I know you’re safe. Go!”
Clay scrambled to his feet but stayed low. He ran in that crouched position to their picnic shelter. There was a third shot, but now Roen was on the move. He reached the overhang seconds after Clay. They sat there, catching their breath and bracing for another shot in spite of the fact that they were well protected for the moment. If someone came after them, they were fish in a barrel.
“What do we do now?” asked Clay. “You don’t have a gun, do you? I didn’t see that you packed a gun.”
“Because I didn’t. As a rule, surveying does not require one.”
“Bet this changes your mind.”
Roen didn’t have an answer for that. He clapped a hand over the wound in his arm. Blood was beginning to seep through his shirt.
“Hey! You’re hurt.” Clay moved closer to get a better look.
“It’s nothing. A crease. I’m trying to decide if I was lucky or if it was a lucky shot.”
Clay frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that whoever was doing the shooting intended to run us off, not kill us.”
“Maybe I should find out, make a run for my horse, and ride back to town. I could bring Sheriff Ben here. If no one shoots at me, then we’ll know. He’ll see he’s run me off.”
“That’s about as brave a plan as I’ve ever heard and about as foolish. No. You’re not riding out, not without me, and not until we’re sure that it’s safe.”
