Elliot turned to watch the Mexican hurrying along the upper ledge to his assigned position. This spot really was ideal. With two ledges, the upper one con-cealed from below, it was absolutely perfect for ambush. There was even a path leading down the other side of the bluff to where their horses were hidden. And those below could not give chase even if they wanted to, because the two separate trails didn't meet until they reached the bottom of the mountain on this side. The path leading down the other side of the bluff met the foothills on the western face of the mountain, but horses couldn't maneuver up or down it.

Soon. soon he could get on with his life. Noth-ing was going to go wrong this time. It couldn't. He was due some luck of his own.

He moved into his own position, which allpwed a clear view of the trail below. He could see the lead riders now, and Sir Parker Grahame, captain of the guard, out in front as usual. He knew all of her peo-ple by name, and some of their histories too. He had spoken with them, bought them drinks, almost man-aged to seduce that silly French maid, Babette, while they were in Egypt. That they had no idea who he was or what he looked like made it easy. As long as he never approached one of them unless they were alone, and never approached the same one again in another town or country, they never suspected a thing.

"Best get ready, gentlemen," Elliot said quietly to the men behind him.

He lay stretched out to the left of the boulder. He would not relinquish his place, wanting to see the devastation firsthand. The huge rock sat on the very edge of the bluff. They had had to do no more than loosen it from the mountain's grip beforehand, so all it needed now was a push.

The four men ready to do the pushing set their hands to the boulder and waited. Elliot waited for the lead guards to pass and the first of the coach horses to be directly below before sending the Mexican the signal to begin his part. Dewane joined him, a gun in each hand, though he laid one down for later use.

The last man took out the mirror that would flash the signal to the Mexican.

"I want the driver of the coach eliminated before he applies the brake." Elliot repeated this particular order. "He'll stop the coach as soon as the guards up front start to turn around to investigate the shots from the rear, but whether the guards have passed behind the coach yet or not, the driver must be prevented from applying the brake. Without the driver, the coach horses will then move forward on jtheir own."

"No problem." Dewane grinned, able to see the big man now who was driving the lead coach. "He's no easy target ta miss."


Elliot saw it was one of the grooms driving the duchess today. Too bad it wasn't the Spaniard. That man was a devil with knives, and had killed one of Elliot's men in New York who had been caught tam-pering with the duchess's coach.

The guards were passing now. In another moment, another.

"Send the signal," Elliot ordered over his shoul-der.

He waited tensely, holding his breath. The first pair of matched grays had passed, the second pair was nearly past. Bloody, bloody hell, if that Mexican.

They heard the shot. So did the guards below. They were all turning about, but Grahame sent only two back to investigate. The vehicles were all stopping. There were shouts filling the air, demanding to know what was happening. The driver of the lead coach was standing up to look back.

The third matched pair of grays was below the boulder now.

Another two shots were fired successively. The re-maining four guards began to maneuver past the coach on the side of the slope, the only place there was room for them to go. Grahame stopped, however, un-doubtedly to reassure the duchess. Watching him, Elliott didn't see the driver reach for the brake handle, but Dewane did. The shot fired right next to him gave him a start, but not enough to miss seeing the driver drop the reins as he began falling, right off the coach. He hit the ground behind Grahame's mount, making the horse rear up out of control. The driver hit the ground close enough to the third set of grays; they likewise tried to rear, couldn't, and set their harness mates into fright.

From a dead stop to a frightened surge forward, it was too fast. "Now!" Elliot shouted, then swore a blue streak as he watched the boulder crash to the ledge below, break apart on contact, and do no more than scatter dust on the rapidly fleeing coach.

He got to his feet with a snarl, and narrowly missed being shot. The guards were already returning the fire his men were raining down on them.

The two men who were supposed to have climbed down to the ledge below to get to the coach if it was missed, were standing there awaiting new orders.

"Get your horses and come around to where these trails end," Elliot instructed. "With her bloody luck, that coach will miraculously make it to the bottom of the mountain without going over the side. Follow it with all speed, stop it if you have to, but make sure no one is left alive inside it. No one."

Chapter Five

“Vanessa? Vanessa, are you all right?"

"You may ask me that later. Right now I honestly couldn't say."

Jocelyn was lying on the floor, or to be more exact, on the door. After that horrifying ride that had seemed as though it would never end, the coach had somehow tipped over on its side. Jocelyn had fallen against the door when the coach began to tilt, and presently had her back flat against it, with her long legs stretched out on the actual floor, which was now straight up in the air. Vanessa had not fared much better, though she had remained in her seat, which was now against the side of the coach above Jocelyn's head.

They both sat up at just about the same time, Vanessa with a moan, Jocelyn with a grunt. "I imagine we'll have a few bruises to show for this experience."

"Is that all?" Vanessa replied, sounding not at all herself. "It feels-"

"You are hurt," Jocelyn said accusingly, seeing how the countess was pressing her hand to the side of her head.

"Just a bump, I think. I was trying to brace myself, but my arm slipped."

"Turn around and rest your back against the seat. It's more cushiony than the wall."

Jocelyn helped her until she was settled, then got to her knees. They were both a mess, clothes askew, coiffures falling down. Jocelyn removed the few re-maining hairpins that hadn't rattled loose, then tossed her hair back out of the way. She would have grinned at that point for having escaped this experience intact, if Vanessa weren't grimacing in pain from the bump on her head.

"What do you think happened, Vana?"

"I think John Ixmgnose was up to his old tricks again, that's what."

"Do you really?" Jocelyn's teeth worried at her lower lip a moment as she considered that possibility.

"But how could he have gotten in front of us? How could he know which way we would come, for that matter?"

Vanessa didn't open her eyes to answer. "We weren't exactly hurrying through Mexico, my dear. There was time aplenty for him to get ahead of us. And as to his knowing where we were going, well, I wondered about that guide's sudden disappearance, I really did. Rather convenient, wasn't it, leading us right to the start of that mountain trail?"

"Why, that little traitor!"

"More likely he was in Longnose's pay first, my dear. He came to us, if you recall; we didn't find him.

Besides, I know an Englishman's voice when I hear it, and that shouted 'Now,' just before that crash we heard, was decidedly British. What was that crash, anyway?"

"I have no idea. A better question would be, what's become of our driver?"

Here Vanessa sighed. "I really don't think he was with us on that insane ride, or we would have heard him shouting at the horses, even if he couldn't stop them. That shot that was so close—"

"Don't even think it!" Jocelyn cut in sharply. "If we lost him, he no doubt only lost his seat — as we both did innumerable times."

"No doubt," Vanessa agreed, to keep the peace. They would learn soon enough what had really hap-pened. "But I think we've lost our horses too."

Jocelyn had also felt the difference in the pull of the coach just before they tilted over, so she didn't argue that comment. "They'll be found," she said with confidence. "And so will we be shortly. In the meantime

…"

Vanessa opened one eye to see the duchess getting to her feet. "Whatever are you doing?"

Standing on one door, Jocelyn realized that her head didn't quite reach the other. "I was going to see how we might get out of here, but even if I could throw that door open—"

"Don't even bother, Jocelyn. It won't be that long until our people reach—" She didn't finish, because they could hear someone approaching at a gallop. "You see? That didn't take long at all."

Ears attuned, they heard the first horse skid to a sudden stop very near, probably one of the guards ahead of the others, probably Sir Parker Grahame himself. He was ever diligent, and besides, he was sweet on Jocelyn, and so was prone to get more upset than the others each time Longnose made one of his attempts.

After another moment the coach groaned as their rescuer climbed on top of it, and then the door was lifted and dropped back with a bang. The overhead sun had been pouring in through the window, but nothing like what was now coming in through the open door. Jocelyn was momentarily blinded when she looked up, but as soon as a man's silhouette appeared to block some of the glare, it was easier for her to see, though not to recognize who he was at first.