They approached the dirt track just as two massive wagons, each drawn by a team of twelve big black mules, rounded the curve to start up the canyon. The lead driver checked his team as Zach stepped into the road.
“We need a ride to Bisbee,” Zach explained. “My horse is worn out and I don’t think the lady can walk much farther.”
The grizzled man spat a stream of tobacco juice as he looked them over, squinting through a tangle of rusty beard and hair that would do justice to a bear.
“Reckon I can fit you’ns in,” he said finally. “Hitch yore hoss on behind and climb up.”
Zach helped Emily onto the bench seat beside the freighter, tied Rusty to the tailgate of the wagon, and then joined them.
“I sure do thank you,” he said as he scrambled up. “Here’s a little something for your pains.” He
