Chapter 13
The crack of a pistol shot shattered the morning stillness.
Carrie Harper’s world tilted as Josh spun against the porch wall, blood blooming across his shoulder.
Her anguished scream tore through the air, raw and heartbreaking.
She rushed toward him, tripping on the hem of her skirts.
She collided with his body, and they fell to the ground.
She immediately pressed her hands against the wound, already blossoming across his clothing and staining her fingertips crimson. His eyes were squeezed shut.
“Josh, no!” she cried, tears streaming down her face.
The sight of him, already gray-faced and his features etched with pain, broke something deep in her chest. She had been moments away from rising onto the tips of her toes and pressing her lips to his, trusting that the feelings in her heart were true and that Josh felt them, too.
She had been ready to lay bare her emotions, but now the man she loved had been shot because of her.
Josh had been hurt protecting her from the consequences of her lies.
Guilt clawed at her, sharper than any knife she had ever carried.
“Josh, please…” she urged, hoping he might look at her. “Josh!”
She was still wailing when Marcus Reed’s men seized her, roughly pulling her away from Josh.
She struggled, her boots slipping on the porch boards—on Josh’s blood, she realized—while they bound her wrists with coarse rope.
“Let me go!” she shouted, her voice cracking as she twisted toward Josh. “He needs help!”
Irene had burst from the house, kneeling beside her son and pressing a cloth to his wound. “Stay still, Joshua,” she urged, her eyes fierce. “The bullet seems to have gone straight through, but you’re still losing a lot of blood.”
Marcus’s cold voice cut through the chaos.
“Back off, all of you,” he said, his pistol pressed to Carrie’s temple, the metal chilling her skin.
Why had they been foolish enough to turn their backs on Marcus Reed?
Why had she allowed herself to believe that the threat was gone?
She should have known it was a trick. But she had gotten lost in the depths of Josh’s eyes.
She had allowed her heart to silence her mind.
The ranch hands rode in hard from the fields, their horses snorting, rifles drawn at the sound of the gunshot.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed, his deputies fanning out to either side of the house, hands on their holsters.
“One move and she’s dead!” he called out loud enough for everyone to hear, the words echoing through the prairie.
Carrie’s heart pounded. Her gaze fell on Josh as he struggled to rise, his face ashen. Fresh blood dripped down his arm. “Carrie,” he rasped, his voice thick with pain, but he still refused to give up on her. “I’ll find you. I swear it.”
His words, laced with love and resolve, anchored her even as Marcus’s men bundled her onto a waiting horse, her bound hands useless against the saddle.
The ranch quickly faded behind them, the white clapboard house shrinking as they rode down a back trail, avoiding the road through town.
Carrie’s pulse raced, flooding every vein with adrenaline.
“Devil’s Canyon would be perfect,” one deputy said, his voice low but not low enough for Carrie to miss, even over the deafening pounding of her heart. “She tries to escape, and oops, she slips right over the edge. Tragic suicide of a desperate killer.”
Marcus’s laugh was cold and heartless. “Thorne likes clean work,” he said, his eyes flashing with a deep-rooted maliciousness as he glanced back at Carrie.
“No witnesses, no loose ends. Her death will be reported as a cornered fugitive choosing the canyon over justice. I’ve done it before—accidents, suicides.
It keeps the employer’s hands clean of any liability. ”
Carrie’s blood chilled, his words painting a grim picture.
How was she supposed to escape it? Thorne’s empire, she realized, was built on murder disguised as misfortune, and no one had been safe—business partners, rivals, anyone who threatened his reputation, eliminated methodically.
She was just another mark, her death to be staged at the canyon’s edge, a thousand-foot drop erasing her truth about Jonathan Webb’s murder.
Hours passed, the terrain growing rougher, rocks and scrub replacing the open prairie. Carrie’s wrists ached, the ropes biting her skin. She knew it was pointless, but she tried to undo the knots anyway. She couldn’t just let this happen.
Her thoughts wandered, making their way back to Josh.
She could still see the carnation of red across his shirt.
His desperate promise echoed in her mind.
Her mouth soured as she remembered Irene’s tear-stricken face.
These people had opened their hearts to her, and she had proven to be nothing more than a liar who had brought violence and heartache to their doorstep.
Shame burned in her chest, mingling with fear as the canyon loomed closer and closer, its jagged edge a promise of death.
They stopped near the precipice, the wind howling through the rocks. Marcus dismounted, his pistol drawn, his expression emotionless. “End of the line, Miss Harper,” he said, his voice icy. “A tragic fall, a fitting end for a killer on the run, don’t you think?”
Carrie’s heart raced. She stared at the canyon’s edge and the dizzying drop beyond.
Her stomach flipped, and she squeezed her eyes shut, praying silently.
“Lord, forgive me for the pain I’ve brought them.
Heal Josh, protect Irene, and grant me mercy.
” She clasped her hands together, her thoughts still lingering on Josh’s face.
He had been everything she had not known she needed.
He had filled her heart with so much love when there had only been despair.
Regret rose like bile in her throat, regretting that she had not summoned the courage to kiss him.
With her fists clenched at her sides, she dared to open her eyes, watching as Marcus raised his pistol.
Before he could level it between her eyes, the distant thunder of hoofbeats echoed across the canyon rocks.
Her heart leaped as impossible hope surged through her like a bolt of lightning.
Could it be? Could Josh have followed, despite his wound, despite everything?
She could only pray for such a miracle.
Pain seared through Josh’s shoulder, each movement of his arm a fire that threatened to drag him under, but he gritted his teeth against it as he struggled to his feet.
Carrie’s scream still echoed in his ears, her tear-stricken face burned into his mind.
He had allowed Marcus Reed to drag her away.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed away any thoughts of failure.
There was still time. He could still save her. He had to save her.
Blood soaked his shirt, his left arm useless, but the fire in his chest, fueled by love, rage, and determination, kept him upright.
“Joshua!” his mother chided, trying to keep him down. “You’ll bleed out! We need to dress that wound.”
“No,” he growled, his vision swimming as he grabbed the porch rail. “We don’t have time for that. I will not lose her now.”
The ranch hands stood at the ready, rifles in hand, their faces grim as they watched Reed’s men ride off with Carrie. “Boss, you’re hurt,” Tom said, his weathered face tight with concern. “Let us go after ‘em.”
Josh shook his head, his blue eyes blazing. “I’m going,” he said, his voice unyielding. “Saddle my horse and get word to the Dawsons, the Millers—anyone who can ride.”
Irene’s eyes glistened, but she nodded, silently giving her son her blessing. Sometimes, there was no getting in the way of love. “Go get her, son,” she said, pressing a fresh cloth to his shoulder and tying it off with a strip of fabric torn from her dress. “God’s with you.”
Josh mounted his horse, pain lancing through him as he gripped the reins with his good hand.
He took a deep breath, then snapped the reins and dug his heels into the horse, commanding it into a gallop that had him gritting his teeth.
The hands followed, their horses kicking up dust as they took a back trail, tracking the faint hoofprints veering away from town.
Reed was clever at avoiding the main roads, but Josh knew these lands just as well as he knew the back of his hand.
He could draw a map of every ravine and every shortcut.
His mind raced, trying to anticipate Reed’s plan, but it was hard to focus with Carrie’s confession playing in his head.
She had told him the truth, from her real name, to the murder she had witnessed, and to Reed’s relentless pursuit because she had trusted him.
He could picture her face just moments before the bullet shot through his shoulder and how she had risen onto the tips of her toes, lips slightly parted as if she were going to kiss him.
He ground his teeth and urged his horse into a faster gait.
He would be damned if he let her face this alone—if he failed her now.
Hours later, the terrain grew rugged, the air sharp with the scent of pine and stone as Devil’s Canyon loomed ahead.
Josh’s vision blurred, blood loss making his head light, but he pushed on, his heart fixed on Carrie.
The hands fanned out, silent signals passing between them as they spotted Reed’s men near the canyon’s edge.
Josh blinked, clearing his vision enough to see Carrie standing there, her face pale but her chin tilted upward in defiance as Reed raised his pistol.
Josh’s heart stopped. “Now!” he shouted, spurring his horse forward as the hands charged alongside him.
The thunder of hoofbeats roared across the rocks.
Reed’s head snapped up, his pistol wavering from its target.
Josh drew his own pistol, his wounded arm screaming as he aimed.
“Drop it, Reed!” he bellowed, his voice carrying the weight of a man with everything to lose.
Carrie’s eyes met his gaze from across the distance, hope flaring in them, and in that moment, Josh knew he would move heaven and earth to keep his promise. No one was taking her away—not today, not ever.