Chapter 4
“Hey . . . wait a minute,” one of the Riders called from the yard, his voice sharp over the crackle of the burning ranch. “Did . . . did they move?”
“What do you mean?” another shouted, scanning the shadows.
“They were gone! We finished ’em off, right?”
“No! I saw ’em. I swear I saw somethin’ move behind that sagebrush!”
Wilder cursed, his silver tooth gleaming in the firelight. “They ran for it. We shouldn’t have let them go. They might go to the law.”
“They . . . maybe,” the first rider said, uncertainty in his voice. “Little brats.”
“Damn it,” Wilder spat. “Circle ’em! Don’t let ’em get away! After ’em!”
“Mount up!” another Rider yelled, swinging onto his horse. “They’re heading for the edge of the desert!”
Blaze’s heart leapt in his chest. He and Rachel had been so close to being trapped, yet the chaos of the fire had given them a narrow window. He heard hooves pounding, the shouting growing louder, and knew they had no time to waste.
“Come on! Move!” Blaze hissed, grabbing Rachel’s hand and yanking her from the brush.
“But, Blaze . . .” Rachel’s voice trembled, and she stumbled over a rock.
“No time! Just run!” he snapped, hauling her upright.
The heat of the fire was still on their backs, the glow of the ranch lighting up the smoke-choked night. Sparks flew past them, and the smell of burning wood and hay filled their lungs.
A shout rang out. “There! They’re moving!”
Blaze didn’t look back. He pulled Rachel across the open field, their boots sinking into the dry dirt.
“Don’t stop!” he said. “Keep low!”
“They’re gonna—” Rachel choked on a sob.
“Shh! Not a word!” Blaze warned, ducking behind a small rise. He pressed her down, hearing the unmistakable clop of hooves. “Riders!”
“Damn it! They’re getting away!” Wilder’s voice cut across the night, sharp and furious. “Split up! Don’t let them reach the desert!”
“Blaze, they’re coming!” Rachel whimpered.
“I know,” he said, grabbing her hand again. “We’ve got to keep moving. Follow me.”
Gunshots cracked through the night, whistling dangerously close. Blaze dove to the ground, dragging Rachel with him behind a gully. Dirt sprayed up around them as bullets struck the ground, splintering rocks and kicking up dust.
“Faster, Blaze! We can’t let ’em catch us!” she cried, her voice tight with fear.
“I’m trying!”
He gritted his teeth, scanning the darkness. Shadows shifted among the sagebrush. Blaze counted each one and tried to anticipate their movements.
“Over here!” one of Wilder’s men shouted, the torchlight swinging across the field.
“They see us!” she whispered.
“Keep moving!” he urged, hauling her up. They sprinted across the uneven ground, legs burning and lungs heaving. Rocks cut into their palms and knees as they stumbled through gullies and dips in the terrain.
“Split up here!” Wilder’s voice carried across the field.
“They’re gaining on us!” Rachel gasped, clutching his arm.
“Not if we keep the gullies between us!” Blaze said. He ducked low again, peering through the shadows. One of the Riders swung a torch, the flame illuminating their escape route.
“Damn kids! They’re still alive!” Wilder roared. “Don’t let them vanish!”
Blaze held his breath longer than he should have, dragging Rachel through another dip. Rocks and dry sagebrush tore at their clothes and skin, but he didn’t stop. Their lungs burned, their hearts pounded, and their ears rang with gunfire and hooves.
“Blaze, I’m scared,” Rachel whispered, her voice trembling.
“I know,” he said, pressing her close. “But we’re not done yet. We’ll make it. Just a little further.”
A torch flared nearby, illuminating the tops of the gullies.
Blaze pushed Rachel down behind a boulder.
“Crouch here,” he said.
Bullets kicked up dirt and rocks around them, sending shards into the sagebrush. Sparks from the burning ranch reflected in the darkness, painting fleeting images of twisted shadows and flames.
“They’re not giving up,” Rachel whispered, her voice tight.
“But neither are we,” Blaze replied. “Keep moving when I say. Ready?”
Rachel nodded, trembling. Blaze counted to three, then bolted from cover, dragging her across a shallow gully.
Their boots skidded over loose dirt and rocks. A hail of gunfire followed them, whistling dangerously close. Blaze shoved Rachel down when a bullet struck the edge of the gully.
“Move! Move!” he shouted, yanking her upright again.
They scrambled through thick sagebrush. He scanned constantly. Every shadow could hide a Rider; every crack of a twig could give them away.
“They’re still behind us,” Rachel gasped.
“Yes, but we’re not caught yet!” Blaze shouted. He grabbed her hand, dragging her through a narrow gap between rocks. Gunfire exploded behind them, the Riders shouting orders and curses as they fanned out.
“Stop!” Wilder bellowed behind them.
“They’re small, but fast,” another rider said. “Don’t underestimate ’em!”
Blaze dragged Rachel through another dip, the desert night wrapping around them like a cloak. They stumbled over rocks and dry brush as their lungs burned, but they refused to stop.
“They’re . . . they’re fast,” Rachel panted, almost whispering.
“Yes, but we’re faster,” Blaze said. “Just a little further. You can do this!”
The Riders were relentless, shouting, and urging their horses on. Blaze counted their voices, trying to anticipate their approach.
Every step could be their last. Rachel tripped again, almost falling face-first into the dirt.
“I . . . I can’t—”
“You can! You have to!” Blaze yelled. “Stay with me!”
They crashed through the brush, branches scraping their arms. Blaze spotted a thick cottonwood, its trunk wide enough to hide them both. He shoved Rachel down behind it, then pressed himself flat against the bark.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, chest heaving.
Rachel buried her face against his shirt, shoulders shaking. Blaze held her tight, listening and waiting.
The Riders’ shouts still cut through the night, but the sound was moving past, fading as the horses thundered deeper into the desert.
“Spread out! Find ’em!” Wilder’s voice rang once more, then grew dim, swallowed by the distance.
Blaze dared a glance around the trunk. Empty scrub stretched under the glow of the burning ranch. Sparks drifted up into the black sky. Beyond the crackle of fire, the Riders’ noise grew faint, then vanished.
Only silence remained.
Rachel lifted her head.
“Are they gone?” she whispered.
“For now,” Blaze said, his voice hoarse. He smoothed her hair with a shaking hand. “They’ll be back. But not now.”
Rachel clung tighter, and Blaze’s eyes fixed on the glow on the horizon. The ranch was nothing but flames now. The roof was gone, and the smoke was rising like a black pillar into the stars.
And his mother.
He closed his eyes, the memory crashing back. The sharp crack of Wilder’s gun, the way she had stood tall and defiant, refusing to beg. The way she had fallen, and the scream that had torn from Rachel’s throat before Blaze dragged her away.
His jaw locked. His chest heaved once more, but not from running.
“She’s gone,” he whispered, barely able to form the words. “They killed her.”
“Mama . . .” Her breath hitched.
Blaze swallowed hard, forcing down the sob that clawed at his throat. He gripped the revolver at his side, the worn handle rough against his palm.
“They’ll pay for it,” he said. “I swear it, Rachel. Wilder and every last one of his Riders . . . they’ll pay.”
The firelight flickered through the branches, casting shadows across his face. Behind the tree, the two children huddled close as the desert night pressed in around them.
For the first time since the shots rang out, the silence felt heavier than the gunfire.