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derground course。 Each time they passed a narrow side canyon； Nora would stop and mark it on the map。 Sloane rode up beside her； and for a while they rode together。
〃Airplane pilot；〃 Nora said； 〃expert horsewoman； archaeologist； rock climber…is there anything you don't do？〃
Sloane shifted slightly in her seat。 〃I don't do windows；〃 she said with a laugh。 Then her face became more serious。 〃I guess the credit…or the blame…goes to my father。 He's a man with exacting standards。〃
〃He's quite a remarkable man；〃 Nora replied； hearing a slightly acerbic tone creeping into Sloane's voice。
Sloane glanced back at her。 〃Yes。〃
They rounded another bend and the canyon suddenly widened。 A cluster of cottonwoods grew against the reddish walls； late afternoon sunlight slanting through their leaves。 Nora glanced at her watch： just after four。 She noted with satisfaction a broad sandy bench where they could camp； high enough to be beyond the reach of any unexpected flash flood。 And along the banks of the creek were abundant new grass for the horses。 True to its name； Hard Twist canyon veered off to the left； making such a sharp turn that it gave the illusion of dead…ending in a wall of stone。 It looked ugly…choked with rocks； dry and hot。 So far the trip had been an easy ride； but Nora knew that could not last。
She turned her horse and waited while the others straggled up。 〃We'll camp here；〃 she called out。
The group gave a ragged cheer。 Swire helped Black off his horse； and the scientist limped around a bit； shaking out his legs and plaining。 Holroyd dismounted by himself； only to fall immediately to the ground。 Nora helped him to a tree he could lean against until he got his legs back。
〃I don't like the look of that canyon；〃 Sloane said； ing over to Nora。 〃What if I scout up a ways？〃
Nora looked at the younger Goddard。 Her dark pageboy had been tousled by the wind； but the disarray only enhanced her beauty； and the golden desert light made her amber eyes as pale as a cat's。 During the day Nora had noticed several of the pany； particularly Black； clandestinely admiring Sloane； whose tight cotton shirt； unbuttoned at the top and slightly damp with perspiration； left little to the imagination。
Nora nodded。 〃Good idea。 I'll take care of things here in the meantime。〃
After assigning the camp chores； Nora helped Swire unpack and unsaddle the horses。 They lined up the panniers； saddles； and gear on the sand； taking care to keep the high…tech equipment； in its waterproof drysacks； separate from the rest。 Out of the corner of her eye； Nora noticed Bonarotti； armed with brush hook； digging trowel； buck knife； and his oversized pistol； marching off upcanyon on some mysterious errand； khakis still miraculously pressed and clean。
As soon as the horses were unpacked； Swire remounted Mestizo。 During the ride； he had talked and sung to the horses constantly； making up verses to fit the small events of the day； and he sang another as Nora watched him drive the sweaty remuda toward the creek：
O my poor young gelding
Do you see yonder mare？
Such a lovely young filly
One cannot pare。
Too bad your equipment
Is in disrepair。
Once in the grass； he hobbled several of the lead horses and tied cowbells around their necks； then unsaddled Mestizo and staked him on a thirty…foot rope。 At last； he placed himself on top of a rock； rolled a smoke； pulled out a greasy little notebook； and watched the horses settle down to their evening graze。
Nora turned back； surveying the camp with satisfaction。 The heat of the day had abated； and a cool breeze rose up from the purling stream。 Doves called back and forth across the canyon； and the faint smell of juniper smoke drifted past。 Crickets trilled in the gathering twilight。 Nora sat down on a tumbled rock； knowing that she should be using the last of the light to write in her journal； but savoring the moment instead。 Black sat by the juniperwood fire； massaging his knees； while the others； the work of setting up camp done； were gathering around； waiting for a pot of coffee to boil。
There was the sound of footsteps crunching on sand and Bonarotti came swinging back down the canyon； a sack thrown over his back。 He dropped the sack on the cook tarp spread out by the fire。 He slapped a grill on the fire； oiled a large skillet； tossed in some minced garlic from his cabinet； and followed this with rice in a separate pot of water。 Out of the sack tumbled some hideous； unidentifiable roots and bulbs； bundles of herbs； and several ears of prickly pear cactus。 As he worked； Sloane came back into camp from her reconnaissance； clearly tired but still smiling； and sidled over to watch the final preparations。 Working the knives with terrifying swiftness； Bonarotti diced up the roots and threw them into the pot； along with the bulb and a bundle of plants。 Then he singed the cactus ears on the grill； skinned and julienned them； and threw them into the sizzling garlic。 He gave the concoction a final stir； bined it with the rice； and removed it from the fire。
〃Risotto with prickly pear； sego lily； wild potato； bolitas； and romano cheese；〃 he announced impassively。
There was a silence。
〃What are you waiting for？〃 Sloane cried。 〃Line up and mangia bene！〃
They jumped up； grabbing plates from the kitchen tarp。 The cook loaded down each plate； sprinkling chopped herbs on top。 They settled back on logs by the fire。
〃Is this safe to eat？〃 Black asked； only half jokingly。
Sloane laughed。 〃It may be more dangerous for you； Doctor； if you do not eat it。〃 And she rolled her eyes melodramatically toward Bonarotti's revolver。
Black gave a nervous laugh and tasted it。 Then he took a second bite。 〃Why； this is quite good；〃 he said； filling his mouth。
〃Angels and ministers of grace defend us；〃 intoned Smithback。
〃Damn tasty chuck；〃 mumbled Swire。
Nora took a bite； and found her mouth filled with the creamy taste of arborio rice mingled with the delicate flavors of mushroom； cheese； savory herbs； and some indefinable tangy flavor that could only be the prickly pear。
Bonarotti accepted the praise with his usual lack of emotion。 The canyon fell into silence while the serious business of eating began。
* * *
Later； as the expedition made ready for bed； Nora walked off to check on the horses。 She found Swire in his usual position； notebook open。
〃How is everything？〃 she asked。
〃Mighty fine〃 came the answer； and then she heard a rustle as Swire removed a gingersnap from his breast pocket and inserted it into his face。 There was a crunching sound。 〃Want one？〃
Nora shook her head and sat down beside him。 〃What kind of a notebook are you keeping？〃 she asked。
Swire flicked some crumbs off his mustache。 〃Just some poems； is all。 Cowboy doggerel。 It's a sideline of mine。〃
〃Really？ May I see？〃
Swire hesitated。 〃Well；〃 he said； 〃they're supposed to be spoken； not read。 But here； help yourself。〃
Nora thumbed through the battered journal； peering closely in the mixture of firelight and starlight。 There were bits and snatches of poems； usually no more than ten or twelve lines； with titles like 〃Workin up a Quit；〃 〃Ford F…350；〃 〃Durango Saturday Night。〃 Then； toward the back of the journal； she found poems of a pletely different nature： longer； more serious。 There was even a poem that appeared to be in Latin。 She turned back to one called 〃Hurricane Deck。〃
〃Is this about Smithback's horse？〃
Swire nodded。 〃We go way back； that horse and me。〃
He came tearing down the draw one stormy winter's night；
A brush…tailed mustang； full of piss and fight。
I saddled up a chaser and laid a rope around his neck；
Corralled him and christened him Hurricane Deck。
Hurricane Deck； Hurricane Deck； hard on the eye and the saddle；
You whomper…jawed； hay…bellied； cold…backed old spraddle；
Only a blind mare could love your snip…nosed face；
Oh； but I tell you； Hurricane Deck could race。
I trained him for heeling； took him on the road；
At Amarillo and Santa Fe we won a load；
He served me well； from Salinas to Solitude；
But Hurricane's been retired to loading up dudes。
〃I need to work on the las