Chapter 30
Blaze had to be ruthless. He already felt like he was behind. Wilder had the upper hand. He had the men and the power.
Right now, the trio was chasing shadows.
“Search him,” Blaze said.
Marisol turned sharply. “He’s dead, Blaze.”
“Then he won’t mind,” Blaze said.
Graycloud grunted, stepping closer. “You think he carried proof?”
“I think he carried something,” Blaze said. “Men like him always do.”
The desert wind tugged at their clothes as it whistled. The smell of blood and spent gunpowder hung thick in the air. Graycloud knelt by the body, his hands moving like he had done this many times before. He checked Jake’s coat pockets, belt, and boots.
“Empty here,” he said.
Marisol crouched beside him, turning over the Rider’s satchel. “Just cartridges, a few coins, and . . .” She paused, pulling out a folded piece of parchment stiff with sweat and dust.
“What’s that?” Blaze asked.
“Map,” Marisol said. “Looks old.”
Blaze stepped closer. “Open it.”
She spread it flat across her knee. The paper was creased and torn at the edges, ink faded from handling. A rough sketch of the surrounding region sprawled across it—rivers, canyons, and a cluster of peaks scrawled in uneven lines.
Near the center, someone had drawn a thick black cross over the highest mountain.
“That mark,” Graycloud said, leaning in. “Too deliberate to be random.”
Blaze nodded slowly. “Let me see.”
He took the map, his eyes narrowing as he traced the ink lines with a calloused finger.
“This ridge here . . . that’s the Sierra Blight range. And that cross—”
Marisol finished for him. “Mount Grayback.”
“There’s an old silver mine up there,” Blaze said, nodding. “My pa worked it a season before it shut down.”
“A mine,” Graycloud furrowed his brows. “You think that’s where they’re headed?”
“I don’t think,” Blaze said. “I know.”
“But why a mine?” Marisol asked, frowning. “There’s no silver left. Place was abandoned years ago.”
Blaze folded the map, staring toward the distant peaks that loomed like jagged teeth on the horizon.
“Maybe it ain’t silver they’re after.”
He didn’t have to say anything else.
Marisol crossed her arms. “So, Wilder’s pullin’ back to higher ground. You think he’s hiding, or you think he’s waiting for us?”
“Could be both,” Blaze said. “Either way, that’s where this road leads.”
Graycloud stood, his silhouette stark against the reddening sky. “A mountain’s easy to defend. Hard to climb. He’ll see us coming long before we reach him.”
“Then we don’t go in blind,” Blaze replied.
Marisol gave a small, humorless laugh. “Ain’t like we ever had a choice, Buckeye. Every fight we’ve walked into lately has been blind.”
“That’s different,” Blaze said. “This one’ll end it.”
Graycloud tilted his head. “End it . . . or bury us.”
“Either works,” Blaze said.
Marisol stared at him for a long moment. “You mean that?”
“I mean I’m tired of running circles while men like Wilder and Kane make plans,” Blaze said. “That mine’s the heart of it. I can feel it.”
Graycloud squatted near the dead Rider again. “If Wilder’s gathering there, he won’t be alone. A dozen . . . maybe two dozen Riders.”
“And we’re three,” Marisol replied.
The silence stretched. The sun dipped lower, turning the sky a bruised purple.
Marisol finally spoke. “You think he’s expecting you?” she asked.
Blaze looked down at the body again. “He knows I’m coming. That’s why he’s fortifying. This map wasn’t for this man . . . It was for us to find.”
“You believe it’s bait?” Graycloud asked.
“Maybe,” Blaze said. “But even bait tells you where the trap’s set.”
“That’s a fine way to walk into a grave,” Marisol said, huffing.
Blaze looked at her. “You still with me?”
She hesitated, then slung her rifle over her shoulder.
“You already know the answer to that,” she said.
Graycloud nodded once. “We finish this. Together.”
“Then we ride toward the mountain,” Blaze said.
The Indian gestured toward the distant ridge. “It will take a day at least if the trail holds.”
“Then we move as soon as we can,” Blaze said.
Marisol reached out to Blaze and took the map from his hand.
“You want to keep this?” she asked.
“Fold it,” Blaze said. “It’s the only lead we’ve got.”
As she tucked it into her saddlebag, Blaze crouched beside Jake’s body one last time. The man’s eyes were still open, glassy and fixed on the fading light.
“You brought your master’s secret with you,” Blaze muttered. “Guess it didn’t buy you much.”
Graycloud watched him quietly. “He died for another man’s greed.”
“So did my father,” Blaze said softly.
Marisol glanced over. “You still don’t believe what he said?”
“No,” Blaze said. “But I’ll find out for sure when I find Kane.”
Graycloud’s gaze drifted toward the horizon. “And if your father did take that gold?”
Blaze didn’t answer. He stood, adjusting his belt.
“Then I’ll still do what’s right,” he said. “Same as he would’ve.”
His thoughts were scattered. His head was a mess.
There were too many voices telling him different things about his father. Deep down, Blaze didn’t want to believe any of it. However, all that information started to gnaw at him.
Doubt began to creep in. But there was only one way to learn the truth.
They mounted their horses as twilight deepened, the last light burning over the peaks ahead. Marisol rode beside Blaze, breaking the silence.
“You ever seen that mine?” she asked.
“Once,” Blaze said. “Years back. My father took me there after the collapse. Said it was cursed ground. Men went in rich and came out broken.”
He remembered that day very well. He recalled his mother telling his father that it was no place for a child. They went anyway.
Back then, Blaze was naive. He was excited to see anywhere that was different from Red Rock.
Now, he felt himself changing.
“Sounds like Wilder found his kind of place,” Marisol said, lowering her voice.
“Cursed suits him fine,” Blaze said.
Graycloud urged his Appaloosa forward, scanning the trail. “We should camp near the foothills tonight. The map says the main road curves west first.”
“Are you sure we ain’t ridin’ straight into his arms?” Marisol asked, glancing at the pair of them.
“If we are, I’ll make sure he regrets opening them,” Blaze replied, clenching his jaw.
She smiled faintly. “You got a way with words, Buckeye. Shame you can’t talk bullets outta flying.”
He managed a dry smile in return. “Never had that gift.”
The night air grew cold as they rode, their breath fogging. Somewhere behind them, coyotes howled among the rocks. Blaze didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. The dead man’s story, the map, and the thought of Rachel waiting were enough to drive him forward.
After an hour, Graycloud reined in, nodding toward a cluster of boulders.
“We can make camp here,” he said. “Windbreak’s good. What do you think, Blaze?”
His asking Blaze for affirmation surprised him. Suddenly, it felt like it was Blaze leading Graycloud and Marisol . . . like he was the older one.
In response, he simply nodded.
They dismounted in silence, the scrape of metal and saddle leather filling the dark. Blaze crouched near a small fire Marisol built, staring into the flames. The map sat unfolded beside him, glowing orange in the flicker.
It didn’t take long for Blaze to realize that Marisol was watching him.
“You’re thinkin’ about that mark again,” she said.
“I’m thinking about what waits there,” Blaze replied.
Graycloud added a branch to the fire. “You believe it’s gold?”
“I believe it’s more than that,” Blaze said. “Wilder’s gathering men, not miners. That ain’t for digging. That’s for war.”
“War against who?” Marisol asked, frowning. “The law doesn’t ride out here no more.”
Blaze’s eyes lifted to hers. “Against me. Us.”
“You wounded him deep enough he’ll want to end it clean,” Graycloud added.
“There’s nothing clean about Wilder,” Blaze said.
Marisol poked at the fire with a stick. “So what’s the plan once we get there? Sneak in? Wait him out?”
“Neither,” Blaze said. “We watch first. Count how many men he’s got, what he’s building . . . Then we strike when he least expects.”
Graycloud’s expression didn’t change. “That will take patience.”
“I’ve got plenty,” Blaze said.
Marisol leaned back against her saddle. “Since when?”
He shot her a look, but she smiled faintly.
The fire crackled. The desert wind whispered through the rocks. Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance. A storm was building over the mountains. Blaze stared at the peaks, their shapes black against the faint starlight.
“Mount Grayback,” he said quietly. “That’s where it ends.”
Graycloud followed his gaze. “Then that’s where we’ll bury him.”
“You really think it’ll end there?” Marisol asked. “It’s been going on for so long.”
Blaze’s jaw set. “One way or another, it must end.”
The flames reflected in his eyes. He could almost see Wilder waiting in that dark mine, the gold glinting like the devil’s lure. And through it all, Rachel’s face—innocent, frightened, maybe watching the same sky miles away.
Blaze reached over and folded the map again.
“Get some rest,” he said. “We will ride for the mountain soon.”
“The path will be steep,” Graycloud said.
“Then we climb,” Blaze said.
Marisol pulled her hat low over her eyes. “Always do.”
The wind carried embers into the night, scattering them like fleeting stars. Blaze stayed awake long after the others had fallen silent, the map pressed in his hands, his thoughts circling like vultures.
When he finally lay back, the sky above him was endless. Somewhere beyond those mountains, Wilder was building something.
Blaze only knew one thing: he was riding straight toward it.