Chapter 42
Gunfire split the air.
“Get down!” Blaze shouted to Marisol and Graycloud.
Bullets tore across the main street, smashing glass and chewing through wood, sending splinters raining down like shrapnel. The crack of Kane’s revolver echoed between the saloon and the general store. Blaze dove behind the trough, his hand already on his Colt.
“You think you can take me down?” Kane yelled. “You think you can waltz back here and play hero?”
“You lost the moment you started killing,” Blaze said.
He fired. The bullet clipped the corner of the saloon and sent a puff of dust into the air.
Kane answered back with two shots. Both were wild and close. One struck the ground inches from Blaze’s boot.
“Stop this!” the deputy shouted, voice trembling but steady enough to carry. “Lay down your weapons! Both of you!”
Kane spun. “You stay outta this, lawman!”
He fired once.
The deputy cried out and fell against the porch rail, clutching his shoulder. Blood spilled through his fingers, dark against his tan shirt.
“Hell,” Blaze muttered.
“Still wanna play lawman?” Kane called out. “Ain’t your badge worth dyin’ for?”
“Leave him be!” Blaze said.
He moved from cover, rolled behind a barrel, and fired again. Kane ducked half a second before Blaze’s bullet was anywhere near him.
“Always did like a good fight,” Kane said. “Your old man sure did too.”
“Don’t talk about him,” Blaze said.
“Why not?” Kane asked. “He was my kind of man. Took what he wanted. Never apologized for it.”
“You’re nothing like him,” Blaze replied.
Kane’s laugh turned to a snarl. “You don’t know him like I did.”
Blaze’s pulse thudded hard in his ears. The world had shrunk to the stretch of street between them. All the locals had scattered to avoid getting hit by a stray bullet. Marisol and Graycloud had abandoned their horses as soon as they realized it was quicker to get to safety on foot.
He had lost sight of them, but he knew they were nearby.
“Come on then,” Kane said. “Let’s see if the son’s got the grit the father never had.”
“You want me, come get me,” Blaze said.
He fired, the shot grazing Kane’s arm. Kane cursed and ducked behind a wagon. The boards cracked where the slug hit.
Blaze darted out and moved low. His boots slid through the dirt as he took cover behind a post. The deputy tried to push himself upright.
“Stay down,” Blaze said.
“I can’t. I gotta—”
“You’re bleeding,” Blaze cut him off. “Stay still.”
Deputy Miles nodded, panting through gritted teeth.
“You can’t hide forever, boy!” Kane shouted.
“Not hiding,” Blaze replied and waited.
The dust drifted. A hot wind stirred the hanging sign above the saloon, creaking like a clock counting down.
Then he saw it: a flash of movement behind the wagon. Kane’s boot.
Blaze lifted his revolver. Kane beat him to it.
Two shots thundered at once.
The first tore a splinter from the post by Blaze’s head. The second hit the wagon wheel, shattering it. Kane cursed again, stumbling back. His aim was thrown off.
“Get outta my way!” Kane roared, kicking the broken wheel aside.
Blaze stepped from cover, breathing slowly. “It’s over, Kane.”
“Not till you’re dead,” he replied.
They stared at each other across the empty street. Dust swirled between them like smoke from a dying fire. Kane’s shirt was torn, his face streaked with sweat and powder. Blaze’s arm throbbed where the bullet had grazed him, but he barely felt it.
“You should’ve run while you had the chance,” Kane said.
“You should’ve stopped when you had the chance,” Blaze countered.
Kane smiled, teeth bright against the dirt. “You sound like your father.”
Blaze’s finger tightened on the trigger. “No. He’d have walked away. I won’t.”
Kane’s eyes narrowed. “Then let’s end it.”
“Let’s.”
They drew at the same time. The first shot ripped through the stillness.
Blaze’s revolver bucked once. Kane’s did too. The air filled with smoke and the ring of steel on steel.
Blaze felt something graze his ribs, but he stayed upright. Kane staggered, one hand going to his chest.
“Not . . . yet,” Kane gasped. He fired again, his next shot wild and desperate. The bullet shattered a window.
Blaze took one step forward. “It’s done.”
Kane tried to raise his gun again. His hand trembled.
“I told you,” Blaze said, his voice low. “This ends today.”
He fired once more.
The shot hit clean. Kane’s revolver slipped from his grasp. He stumbled backward, his legs folding beneath him, and fell into the dust.
He lay still for a moment, then coughed, blood on his lips.
“You think you won,” Kane said weakly. “But you just—”
“Ended it,” Blaze said.
Kane’s head tilted back, his breath rattling once. Then, it stopped.
The street went quiet again.
For a long time, Blaze didn’t move. Smoke drifted past his face, rising into the bright afternoon. He could hear the faint moan of the wind and the soft whimper of the deputy on the porch.
“Is it . . . over?” the deputy asked, his voice weak.
“It’s over,” Blaze said.
He holstered his revolver and crossed to the deputy. The man’s face was pale, sweat beading on his brow.
“You’re gonna be alright,” Blaze said.
“Should’ve stayed in cover,” the deputy muttered.
“You were doing your job,” Blaze replied. “Ain’t no shame in that.”
The deputy nodded faintly, grimacing as Blaze tied off the wound with his bandanna.
The sound of footsteps reached them, slow and cautious. A few townsfolk crept out from alleys and doorways, whispering as they looked toward the body in the street.
Blaze stood, brushing the dust from his coat. His breath finally steadied, though the tremor in his hands lingered. He looked down at Kane’s body. The man’s eyes were open, fixed on nothing. His hat lay beside him.
Someone behind Blaze whispered, “Is he dead?”
“Yeah,” Blaze said quietly. “He’s dead.”
The blacksmith stepped forward, hat in hand. “We saw what happened. You did what needed doin’.”
“Didn’t feel like it needed doin’,” Blaze said.
“Maybe not,” the man said. “But this town’s been dyin’ with him at the center of it all. You gave it a chance.”
Blaze looked away. “All I did was finish what Dean Wilder started.”
The townsfolk murmured among themselves. Some were nodding, and some were still wary. Blaze watched as the saloonkeeper fetched water, and the others went to lift the deputy and carry him toward the doctor’s office.
“Get him patched up,” Blaze said. “Tell the doctor I’ll cover what’s owed.”
“You sure?” the blacksmith asked.
“Yeah,” Blaze replied, nodding.
The man nodded back and helped the deputy down the street. Blaze turned back to Kane. He crouched and studied the man’s face one last time.
“You could’ve walked away,” Blaze murmured. “But men like you never do.”
He reached out, closed Kane’s eyes, then stood and walked toward the church.
He must have only taken two steps before Rachel jumped into his arms. He didn’t even hear her running. His ears were still ringing from the violence.
Rachel hit him like a gust of wind. Her arms were tight around his neck, and her face was buried against his shoulder. For a moment, Blaze couldn’t breathe. Not from the weight, but from the rush of it all.
Her hair smelled faintly of smoke and lilac, just like it had back home before the world had gone cruel.
“Blaze!” she gasped. “You . . . you came back!”
He closed his arms around her, holding her like he was afraid she might vanish.
“Of course I did,” he said. “Ain’t nothing that could’ve kept me from it.”
Rachel pulled back just enough to look at him. Her cheeks were streaked with dirt, but her eyes shone.
“I knew you’d find me,” she said. “I told everyone you would.”
He smiled faintly. “Reckon you were right.”
Behind her, the street was still settling into silence. Somewhere down the street, a door creaked, and someone whispered a prayer. But for Blaze, the noise faded to nothing.
He glanced over Rachel’s shoulder. Marisol stood near the hitching post, her face pale under the grit. She caught his eye and gave the smallest nod. There were no words—just a quiet acknowledgment that they’d both made it through.
Graycloud was beside her, his shirt torn and his hands still stained with dirt. He looked at Blaze, then at Rachel, and a rare softness crossed his face.
Blaze met their eyes and felt something in his chest ease. The fight was done. For now, at least.
He looked down at Rachel again. “You’re safe,” he said softly. “That’s all that matters.”