"You can come out now, if you want." He swung the snake away.
She opened the door cautiously.
"It's the heat of your engine," one of them said. "Draws 'em under the car in the mornings."
She saw that there were six men altogether. They each had sticks, and carried large sacks with squirming contents. "What're you doing?"
"We're collecting rattlers."
"Why?" she said.
"For the Rattlesnake Roundup next week. In Yuma."
"Uh-huh..."
"Do it every year. It's a contest. Who brings the most snakes."
"I see."
"It's by weight, so you want the big 'uns. Didn't mean to frighten you."
"Thank you."
The group of men was moving off. The man talking to her lagged behind. "Ma'am, you oughtn't to be out here alone," he said. "Though I see you got yourself a weapon." He nodded to the backseat of the car.
"Yes," she said, "but I don't have any ammo."
"Well, that won't do you," the man said. He started toward his car, parked across the road. "Is that a twelve-gauge you got?"
"Yes, it is."
"These'll serve." He gave her a handful of red shells. She stuffed them into her pockets.
"Thanks. What do I owe you?"
He shook his head. "You just take care, ma'am." He turned to rejoin the others. "A black Hummer came up this road about an hour ago. Big guy with a beard, said he was looking for a woman and her little boy. Said he was their uncle and they were missing."
"Uh-huh. What'd you tell him?"
"We hadn't seen you yet. So we said no."
"Which way did he go?" she said.
"Toward Elsinore. But I figure anytime now he'll be heading back."
"Thanks," she said.
He waved. "Don't stop for gas," he said. "And good luck."