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riverbed. Large boulders lay scattered about. I aimed the screen of my phone at a sign nailed to a tree. WELCOME TO BOOT HILL: NO FIREARMS A LOUD.
    A loud? You kidding me?
    My amused reaction at yet another misspelling was interrupted by the sound of heavy breathing coming from thebushes ahead of me. I dropped into a crouch, unsure of what I’d do if the noise proved to be a bear. All I could remember from my quick online research in preparation for the trip was that bears could weigh as much as seventeen hundred pounds, and because they were too heavy to climb trees, they often attacked in defense of their territory.
    The labored breathing grew louder. I slunk behind a scrawny pine, wishing I’d brought a bell or whistle or my dirt bike. A bulky figure took shape in the shadows, its massive haunch pushing past pine branches.
Six feet, at least. And that’s on all fours!
I rose onto the balls of my feet, ready to bolt and knowing that even if I did, I was a dead man. No way I could outrun a beast like that.
    The snapping of twigs and animal sounds intensified. The beast paused in a clearing and lifted its head as though sniffing the air for prey.
    “What are you doing out here?”
    Her voice, coming so close, sent my heart to pounding in my chest. I whirled to find the girl from the alley standing a few feet behind me.
    “I could ask you the same thing,” I shot back, still trying to tamp down the panic.
    “Uncle Walt said I should keep an eye on you.” She walked into the clearing, took the horse by the reins and tied it to a sturdy pine. “What are we looking for?”
    “We?”
    “You thinking of sneaking into the graveyard?”
    “Keep your voice down,” I said.
    “Relax, there’s no one around. I checked.” She’d changedfrom her western attire into jeans, a jacket, and hiking boots. She nodded toward a series of large boulders. “Planning on using
that
trail?”
    “Is there another way to the graveyard?”
    “No. But it can be tricky.” She stepped past me. “And dangerous. I better go first.”
    The route—less a trail and more of a goat path—zigged and zagged up the steep grade. Annie scampered along with bobcat quickness, soon leaving me far behind. I wondered how anyone could carry a casket up such a rocky trail, but then maybe Boot Hill was like everything else in this dead town—for show only. After carefully working our way along a slope of loose, pellet-sized dirt, we reached a flat area about thirty yards wide and nearly as long. A single gnarled tree stood in the middle of the graveyard among weathered headstones. The markers jutted up from the ground like broken teeth, forming a snaggletooth grin.
    “What now, Deputy?”
    I studied her smile in the emerging moonlight. “We’ll hide in those rocks at the base of that cliff.”
    Tall, wet weeds slapped against my pant legs as I walked through the gate of a wrought iron fence toward the bunker of rocks tumbled together at the base of the cliff. The sheer rock face rose several stories above us and formed the western flank of a mesa that overlooked the town.
    “You’re not worried about being trapped up here without a way out?”
    “I don’t expect to be seen,” I said, squeezing past her.
    I worked my way around the maze of jumbled rocks andfinally settled on a place behind two round boulders. From the gap between the rocks, I could see the rows of headstones, a tilting fence, and the trailhead upon which we had climbed.
    “What about me?” Annie asked, trying to push her way close.
    “You watch from the other end. And don’t talk so much,” I whispered. “We may not be alone.”
    Annie took a position about ten feet away, just under a low shelf that protruded from the cliff. She had to squat to remain hidden by the moon’s shadow. I felt confident she wouldn’t be seen. I peeked at my phone. Two minutes ‘til twelve. I blew into my hands, warming my fingers.
    “Your birthday really the fourteenth?” she asked in a