By John Peel Staff Writer

Killers are on the loose, and Four Corners folks are a little edgy.

Law officers, especially, are frustrated but are determined to nab the men who now roam canyon lands near the Utah-Colorado border as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid did a century ago.

But unlike the 1890s’ marshals on horses, the 1990s’ method of tracking includes helicopters, infrared technology and officers from just about every jurisdiction in a 100-mile radius.

Still, as of Saturday night there was apparently no sign of the men who killed Cortez policeman Dale Claxton and wounded two Montezuma County sheriff’s deputies. It’s obvious these men will not be remembered with the fondness of Butch and Sundance.

And we’ll all breathe easier when they’re caught.

"Those guys are off in the canyon. They’re going to be hard to find," said Greg Mahaffey, who was helping Saturday afternoon on his father’s alfalfa farm in Yellowjacket, which is about 20 miles east of where the fugitives are believed to be.

"It’s not that hard to hide. That’s what’s scaring us," Mahaffey said as his father and nephew listened from an idling truck.

Mahaffey got one of the biggest scares of his life Friday as he and his banker drove along a nearby road. A while back Mahaffey bought a used Nielsons Inc. flatbed truck, which happens to be what the three outlaws stole Friday as they fled down McElmo Canyon Road southwest of Cortez.

In an unfortunate twist, officers thought they might have their man.

"They saw me pulling over the hill. They were diving behind their cars and pulling guns," Mahaffey said.

Luckily, Mahaffey’s banker knows someone at the Montezuma sheriff’s office and was able to straighten things out by phone.

"They were fixing to call the SWAT team on me," Mahaffey said.

Just south along U.S. Highway 666, Aaron Yoder was working hard Saturday at Yoder’s Automotive Repair, trying to make up for time lost Friday. He sat and watched Friday as officers stopped those driving Yellowjacket Road toward the highway.

Like his neighbor, Mahaffey, Yoder was in disbelief that something like this was happening in his far-spread but seemingly tight-knit community.

"It’s supposed to stay on the news, not around here," he said after rolling his dolly out from under one of about a dozen vehicles apparently on the repair list.

The maze of roads, side canyons and trails in the area make him wonder if the men have already eluded pursuers.

"It’s always a possibility, ‘cause the cops don’t know (exactly) where they’re at. I don’t think it would be too hard to slip by them."

Steven Ellsperman of Aspen and Dan Willadsen of Greeley planned to go camping in the area and arrived Friday night to a greeting of interested officers. They were searched and allowed to go.

"I don’t think they were messing around," Ellsperman said. "That was the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me."

Ellsperman said he has done some exploring in the nearby canyons.

"I bet (officers) are having a rough time. ... You could get lost in seconds."

Ismay Trading Post sits on McElmo Canyon Road, smack dab on the Colorado-Utah border and nearly due south of where the fugitives are thought to be.

Saturday afternoon the heat built under a mostly sunny sky. A helicopter flew over the trading post, which one could easily zip past thinking no one had inhabited it since the uranium rush of the ‘50s.

Guess there’s been a lot of action here?

"Seems to be, yeah," said the old man behind the wooden counter. He gave the impression news stopped happening after about World War II, then gave 25 cents change on a dollar for a 50-cent candy bar.

The door opened back into the bright light of the dusty, outside world.

A few miles up Belitso Road and on the way to Hovenweep National Monument, the Apache County, Ariz., sheriff’s department manned a Utah roadblock.

A case of 7Up sat on the hood of a deputy’s truck. The deputy was reluctant to talk.

"We’re just out here checking cars," the deputy, Dave Murray, said as a cohort, upraised rifle in hand, stopped a passing vehicle.

They were out there in part because three fellow officers were shot. It hits a lawman hard.

"It brings everybody together. It really does – because you never know who’s going to be next," Murray said, then went to join his fellow deputy.

Like Dale Claxton, he was intent on doing his job.