Chapter 25
“Please,” Rachel whispered, her breath white in the cold air, “just let me make it to the church.”
Her boots slipped in the mud as she darted between buildings, the lamps along Red Rock’s main street flickering low. Somewhere behind her, she could still hear Kane’s voice. He was not shouting but calling. Patient as a wolf.
This had been going on for what felt like hours. Rachel was desperate to get away, but she knew she couldn’t get far.
Moving away from town would have been a mistake. She wouldn’t have lasted an hour in the wilderness.
Her only option was to linger in town. Maybe somebody could help her. Maybe a priest.
“Rachel . . . girl, you can’t hide forever.”
The sound of his boots faded into the distance as she rounded the corner. The church loomed ahead, its white steeple ghostly in the moonlight. The front doors were dark, but she could see a thin golden line of light under the rear entrance.
She crept around back, trembling. Her hands were raw from gripping splintered boards when she’d slipped through the fence earlier. She eased open the back door, and the warm glow of lamplight greeted her.
Inside, the scent of beeswax and wood polish filled her lungs. Rows of pews stretched before her. She scanned the room until her eyes landed on a woman.
She was at the altar, kneeling in quiet prayer. It was Mrs. Albright, the pastor’s wife. Rachel recognized her immediately by her gray shawl.
Rachel froze. She didn’t want to be seen. Not yet.
“Who’s there?” the woman asked softly.
Rachel swallowed hard. For a moment, she wondered if it was better to stay quiet. But it didn’t take long for her to gather the courage to speak.
“It’s . . . it’s me. Rachel Buckeye.”
Mrs. Albright turned, eyes widening in surprise before softening.
“Lord above,” she said, standing. “Child, you look like you’ve run from the devil himself.”
“I might have,” Rachel said, her voice cracking. “Please don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
The woman didn’t answer right away. She crossed the aisle, her slippers whispering against the floorboards, and gently took Rachel’s arm.
“You’ll catch your death out there,” she said. “Come inside, dear. The Lord’s house turns away no soul.”
Rachel hesitated but followed her down the side hallway and past the vestry. They entered a small kitchen where a pot of tea simmered faintly over the embers of a dying fire. Mrs. Albright poured her a cup without another word.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Rachel said, clutching the warm mug in both hands when Mrs. Albright handed it to her.
“No one ever does when they end up here,” the woman said with a faint smile. “But you chose right. Sit. Rest.”
Rachel sank onto a bench. Her eyes stung—partly from the heat, partly from the weight pressing down on her chest.
“He tried to sell me,” she said at last.
Mrs. Albright’s eyes flickered, the only sign she’d heard something shocking. “Robert Kane?”
“Said he could make a tidy profit off me,” Rachel continued. “Called it ‘saving my future.’ He said my pa . . . he said my pa stole gold from Wilder. I didn’t believe him. I still don’t.”
The woman’s voice was gentle but firm.
“I always knew there was something wrong with him. The frontier breeds liars, child,” she said. “And men like Kane . . . they make their living off fear. Don’t let his words take root in you.”
It was obvious that the entire town knew about Rachel’s business. Gossip spread fast in small towns.
Everybody and their grandmother knew that Rachel had been under Kane’s care for a while now. Ever since Blaze rode away from her.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Rachel said. “Everything’s twisted. He said things about my father I can’t . . . My brother’s out there hunting Wilder. I just . . . I just hope he ain’t chasing ghosts.”
“Your brother’s a good soul,” Mrs. Albright said, kneeling next to her. “I’ve seen it. The Lord don’t lose sight of such souls, no matter how far the desert stretches.”
“I ain’t prayed in a long time,” Rachel admitted, feeling tears prickling at her eyes.
“Then maybe it’s time you started again,” she replied.
When Mrs. Albright rose, she lit another candle and set it by the window. The flame flickered, casting gold across the walls.
“You can stay in the loft tonight,” she said. “No one goes up there but the pigeons.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Rachel replied. “I’ll be quiet.”
“You can talk if you need,” the woman said. “Sometimes it’s the only way to keep the dark from getting inside.”
Rachel smiled faintly. “Maybe later.”
***
She climbed the narrow stairs, the boards creaking beneath her weight. The loft was small, just enough room for a cot, some old hymnals, and a dusty Bible. Through the cracked slats of the high window, she could see Red Rock sleeping beneath the moon.
Rachel sank down, wrapping the shawl Mrs. Albright had given her tight. Her heart still raced from the terror she had experienced, but now that she was still, exhaustion hit her like a wave.
Down below, she heard Mrs. Albright humming softly. It was an old hymn—one Rachel’s mother used to sing before she died. The sound reached her through the rafters, and for the first time in days, Rachel let herself breathe.
“Mrs. Albright?” she called softly.
“Yes, dear?”
“Do you think angels really watch over folks like us?”
The woman’s voice was calm when it came. “I think they do, though not always with wings. Sometimes they walk beside us in dust and boots.”
That made her smile.
“Blaze used to say Ma was an angel,” she replied.
Mrs. Albright chuckled. “Then I reckon she’s been busy lately.”
That drew a laugh from Rachel. She lay back on the cot, the wooden beams above her catching the faint glow of candlelight below.
“Do you think my brother’s alright?” she asked quietly.
She didn’t know why she needed reassurance. It wasn’t like Mrs. Albright’s opinion was going to change anything.
There was a pause long enough for Rachel to think the woman hadn’t heard.
“A heart as fierce as his doesn’t fall easy,” the older woman replied. “You’ll see him again.”
Rachel wanted to believe that. She closed her eyes, but her mind wouldn’t rest. The last look on Kane’s face haunted her—the smug grin, the flash of his hand near his gun belt.
He’d wanted to own her life like a ledger entry. The thought made her stomach turn.
“Mrs. Albright?” she whispered again.
“Yes, child?”
“If something happens to me, will you tell Blaze I tried to be brave?”
There was silence for a long moment before she spoke again. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Not while you’re under this roof.”
Rachel nodded and turned her face toward the window. Outside, the desert was endless. She could almost imagine Blaze somewhere out there, sitting by a campfire, eyes fixed on the same stars.
“Be safe, brother,” she said out loud.
Hours passed. The church settled into stillness. The candles guttered out one by one until only the one by the window remained, its flame small but stubborn.
Rachel drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming of hoofbeats on dry earth, of laughter, of her mother’s songs.
At one point, she woke to the creak of the door below. Her heart was pounding, but it was only Mrs. Albright checking locks.
“You’re safe,” the woman whispered up the stairwell.
“I know,” Rachel murmured and drifted back to sleep.
Later, she woke again. This time, it wasn’t from sound but from the stillness itself.
The moon had shifted high, painting the floorboards silver. Through the window, she could see a dust storm far out on the plains—a ghostly swirl like smoke.
She sat up, hugging her knees. The loneliness pressed in thick. She reached for the Bible beside her, running her fingers over the worn leather.
When she opened the book, a slip of paper fell out. It was a page from an old sermon, yellowed with time. The words caught her breath.
The meek shall inherit the earth, but the brave carve their names upon it.
“Sounds like something Blaze would like,” she whispered, smiling faintly.
Then she looked out at the desert again.
“I hope you’re carving yours, brother,” she said. “I really do.”
Down below, Mrs. Albright’s voice rose again—a low murmur of prayer, the same tune repeating. It soothed Rachel like the rhythm of a lullaby. The loft felt warmer now. Somehow, it was softer.
Rachel lay down once more, the stars winking through the window above. Her eyes drifted shut as she whispered one last thing into the night.
“Send an angel to watch him,” she said. “Or better yet, make me one.”