"What day is it?" I yawned to Charley, getting up from his floor.

"March the seventh, I think," Charley replied.

It took a couple of minutes for me to remember the significance of that date. "It's pretty damn sad when you forget your own birthday." I muttered to myself.

Billy flashed me a big smile. "I didn't know today was your birthday, 'Rena. How old are you now?"

Again, it took me a minute to remember. "Twenty." I answered.

Billy rubbed his hands together. "Well, Charley, I reckon we should do something to celebrate the lady's birthday." He smiled devilishly at me. "Twenty shots of whiskey or twenty birthday kisses?"

"You can't be serious," I said.

"I am; you have to choose. Kisses or whiskey?"

I glanced at Tommy. "No more drinking," I said.

"Kisses it is, then," said Charley.

"Do I have to kiss Dave?" I wanted to know.

"Not if you don't want to," said Billy. He motioned to Tommy. "Come on out of that corner and give 'Rena a big 'Happy Birthday' kiss."

Tommy gulped audibly; his face turned bright pink. He approached me hesitantly. Billy nodded for him to keep going, so Tommy planted a very shy kiss on the back of my hand. Billy came to me next and stood an inch away so only he and I could hear the conversation.

"You ever kissed a man on the lips before?" he asked me. I shook my head embarrassedly. Billy raised an eyebrow. "Twenty years old and you've never kissed a man? Let's break that streak."

He leaned toward me, but I put my hand up. Billy was good-lookin' fella and all, but somethin' was holdin' me back. Chavez had said he was in love with me; my first kiss should be with him. Billy seemed to understand what I was thinking. He kissed my cheek and mussed up my hair.

"What are you doing?" said a deadly calm voice behind us. It was Chavez.

"It's 'Rena's birthday." Billy explained. "She's gotta have twenty birthday kisses before sundown, or she'll have seven years of bad luck."

"You get seven years of bad luck for breaking a mirror," Doc corrected him. "Not that I'm superstitious or anything."

Billy, Doc, Charley, and Tommy went out to prepare our horses, leaving Chavez and I alone in the kitchen. I tried my best not to act nervous. Chavez gave me a small smile, curling one of his long, callused fingers around my hair. I leaned in to kiss him. I barely came up to his chest, so Chavez had to bend down. Our lips met in a soft, slow kiss. An intensely happy feeling I'd never before experienced surged through me. The kiss deepened, but we soon had to pull away for breath.

"Wow," I said weakly.

Chavez kissed me again, this time on my forehead. "Happy birthday, Querida."

--------------------------

About midafternoon, we found a mine in the absolute middle of nowhere. Workers were loading donkey carts with heaps of something I couldn't quite identify, shouting orders to one another.

"You got any water?" Doc called desperately to the workers.

No one answered him. Most of the workers were decidely Mexican or Indian, so it was possible they hadn't understood a word Doc had said. We approached an old man with white hair and leathery, wrinkled skin. He was bent over a ledger, wrapped in a buffalo-skin coat.

"Hey, old-timer, when did this place boom up?" Billy asked him.

"Last week," said the old man, not looking up from his work.

"You minin' copper?"

The old man shook his head. "Nah. Guano." Off Hendry's confused look, the miner added, "Bat droppings."

"Bat droppings?" said Doc, looking revolted.

Dave smirked. "I've been to gold towns, copper towns, even been to turquoise towns, but I have never been to a bat-shit town. Can't wait to see the women."

The crack of a rifle rang out; the bullet embedded itself in the wooden structure above the old miner's head. A twenty-strong posse was pounding toward us.

"We gotta skin outta here!" Billy yelled. "Come on! Hurry!"

We galloped across the dusty plains, turning occasionally to fire over our shoulders. The posse would not be deterred. I began to grow worried as we neared a ravine; it was a sheer drop, maybe a hundred feet down. There was no other route through the canyon.

"We're gonna have to jump!" Chavez yelled to us.

"Did you say jump?!" I shouted back, unable to keep the fear out of my voice.

Chavez dug his heels into Sparks' sides, bellowing, "Atsay! Atsay! Atsay!"

Sparks threw her whole body into a leap, disappearing over the side of the ravine. The boys' horses followed. I could hear them screaming in terror all the way down. I hung back; I didn't want to jump. A bullet fired by a member of the posse whizzed past my ear, and I began to reconsider my position. I closed my eyes, urging Storm Cloud forward. I could feel air rushing past me as we descended, and I made the mistake of opening my eyes. I screamed more loudly than I've ever screamed in my life. The reins fell from my grasp at the same moment my right boot came out of the stirrup. I flipped into the air, crashing onto the unforgiving ground.

"Damn," I panted, my heart pounding painfully fast.

I tried to push myself up, but my head began to swim. I put a hand to the back of my head, then brought it around to my line of vision. To my relief, there was no blood on my palm. I was damn lucky not to have busted my head open on the rocks. Everything in my body hurt, but nothing seemed to be broken, so I pulled myself back onto Storm's back. Chavez barreled past me, Dave riding behind him, clutching very hard around Chavez's waist.

'Why the hell did he do that?' I wondered to myself. Everyone knew Chavez and Dave hated each other on principle.

"Sweet Mary's ass, how'd you get them to do that?" asked Dave excitedly. "What's that mean, anyway? Atsay, atsay?"

"It's an ancient Navajo word. It means 'stop.'" Chavez replied.

Dave found his own horse again and mounted it. We fell into a single-file line, following Billy's lead.

"Once we get to the top of this bluff," said Billy, "we'll have a clear view of the Nachita River. We'll sell the horses, then take a skiff downriver to Old Mexico."

Billy reined his horse in. Soon we were looking at the majesty of a bright orange sun setting over a snaking river. The sunlight bounced off the river, causing it to sparkle and shine. We all fell silent; this was one of the most beautiful things any of us had seen.

"Billy, is this Old Mexico?" Tommy breathed.

"No," Billy replied tensely. "It's Garrett. Get down, Tom!"

At that moment, the sun landed across eyes. I squeezed them closed; all I knew of what happened was a gunshot followed by a panicked whinny. A soft voice behind me whispered, "I got him."

I nudged Storm Cloud with my legs to make him walk. I eased him to a trot, a canter, and finally a gallop. I rode until past dark, when the smoke from a campfire led me to the boys. They were sitting around it, looking grim. I immediately noticed two missing people.

"Where's Billy?" I asked. All I got were shrugs. "Where's Tommy?" More shrugs.

"Damn it," I muttered, flopping onto the ground.

I lay on my back, watching the stars come out. The unthinkable had happened. Billy, our leader, foreman, and most importantly, our pal, was dead. I was sure gonna miss him.

Suddenly, I heard two sets of hooves approaching. I pushed myself onto my elbows to look. It was Billy, leading his palamino and the baldfaced mare Tommy had named Pistoleer. Billy's head was hanging and I noticed Pistoleer's saddle was empty.

"Where's Tommy?" I asked. Billy didn't answer. I went up to him and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Billy, where the hell is Tommy?" I asked.

Billy's bottom lip trembled. I clapped a hand over my mouth, horrified at what I realized: Tom was dead. Billy dropped the horses' reins and ran to me. He began to sob into my vest. I never thought I'd live to see Billy the Kid cry. I held him to my chest, like he was some helpless, oversized child, until he ran out of tears.