But by the time they reached the rimrock and canyon country of the plain’s southern edge, the road was filling up with snow. It looked like there were three inches already. When Nick nearly lost it on a curve, he stopped to breathe, thinking hard.
“Why are we stopped? It’s going to be dark. Soon.”
“I know, Tom. Look: do you know where all the ranch H-Q’s are down here?”
“Yeah, but…”
“No but. I’ve got snowshoes. You’ll die out there. Next ranch turnoff, I’m going to let you off. Or you can pick one. Then I’m going to take the truck to—you know Canyon del Cobre?” Tom nodded. “It’s as far as I’m sure I can get. I’m going to hike in from there. Tomorrow, borrow some shoes or skis or a snow machine or a horse or something. Go up three drainages and turn left. There’s a whole bunch of limest
