They had left the grama grass and were climbing toward the distant Pass. With the change in elevation came a change in vegetation. Manzanitas sprang up, small trees with glossy red bark. Prickly pear cactus fringed the road. They saw yuccas. Or rather, Skye Fargo did, because none of the others were interested in the countryside. The big stallion easily paced the stage. Fargo roved from one side of the road to the other and from front to back, always on the lookout for sign. The passengers had rolled up the leather curtains to let air in. Some dozed. Elias Hackman and William Frazier III were reading. Virgil Tucker pitched a product to the two Italians. Melissa and Gwen chatted. No one acted the least bit worried about Apaches, and Fargo partly blamed Buck Dawson’s little speech. They figured they were safe with him along to protect them. So they weren’t as alert as they should be. It could prove to be a costly mistake. The first hint of trouble, though, did not come from Apaches. It came with a grinding thump that lifted the right side of the coach into the air, followed by a sharp crack when the stage thudded back down.
