Chapter 27
When Courage Costs
The red country changed as the sun dropped lower, shadows stretching long across the broken shelves of stone. The horses’ hooves clicked differently now—less dirt, more rock—and the ridges folded in on one another like the land was trying to hide its own secrets.
Tessa kept her eyes ahead, tracking Boyd’s shoulders, the angle of his jaw, as if she might crack open and spill answers whether she meant to or not.
But her mind wasn’t on him.
It was on the high ridge to the west.
Eli had held to it longer than she expected. The boy rode Sam’s gelding like he’d been raised in a saddle, keeping to the skyline, never dropping low enough for sound to carry. That bought him time.
But time wasn’t an endless thing out here.
Not with men like Boyd.
Red slowed. His horse picked up its head, ears pricking toward the ridge.
“Boyd,” he said, voice tightening. “Thought I saw somethin’.”
Tessa’s pulse hammered so hard she felt it in her throat.
Boyd jerked his horse to a stop. “Where?”
“Up on that far line.” Red squinted into the falling light. “Looked like a rider. Small one.”
Tessa swallowed.
Don’t look. Don’t move. Don’t give him away.
Boyd lifted a hand to shade his eyes and stared hard at the ridge.
For several long heartbeats, nothing moved.
Then—
Sam’s gelding stepped into view for half a moment, just long enough for its silhouette to cut against the sky.
Eli bent low in the saddle—smart, quick—but too late.
“That’s a kid,” Red said.
“That’s that rancher’s kid,” Deke added.
A thin smile spread slowly across Boyd’s face. “Well now,” he murmured. “Ain’t this interestin’.”
He didn’t yell. He didn’t rush.
That wasn’t how Boyd worked.
He pointed toward the broken cut to their right. “Red, you take the low shelf. Deke, go around the back side of that ridge. Get above him if you can.”
“On it,” Deke grunted.
Tessa’s stomach turned to stone.
Boyd knew the country better than she remembered. Not well enough to find the hideout—but well enough to trap a boy who didn’t understand how fast men like this could move.
“Boyd,” Tessa snapped, voice cracking. “Leave him out of this. He’s a child.”
“That child’s been tailin’ me since the ranch,” Boyd said. “That makes him my business.”
He leaned in his saddle, eyes never leaving the ridge. “You sit quiet. Or he dies.”
The words struck like a hammer. She felt them in her bones.
Red peeled off down the slope, edging along a ledge narrow enough that each hoof step sent trickles of dirt sliding.
Deke circled wide, disappearing behind a cluster of sharp rock spires.
Tessa couldn’t see Eli from here—only the ridge, the sky, and the ache in her chest twisting tighter by the second.
Boyd edged his horse forward at a slow, almost lazy walk. “You know the thing about boys?” he said softly. “They think bein’ brave is enough.”
Tessa’s breath hitched. “Don’t hurt him.”
“Ain’t up to me,” Boyd said. “Up to him. Whether he runs. Whether he fights. Whether he makes a damn fool choice.”
Eli didn’t run.
That was what made it worse.
He tried to ease back behind the ridge, keeping the gelding low, slipping into shadow like he’d learned from Sam. It would’ve worked on any man less mean than Boyd.
But Red reached him first.
A sharp shout cracked through the evening air. Then a scuffle. Hooves scrambling. A yelp of pain—a child’s—cut through the rock like a knife.
Tessa jolted in the saddle. “Eli!”
“Quiet,” Boyd barked.
She strained against the rope, wrists burning. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. She couldn’t see the boy—just dust rising, men’s voices, and the unmistakable thud of someone hitting the ground.
Red hauled Eli into view moments later, dragging him by the back of Sam’s coat. Eli’s face was scraped, hat lost, breath coming in hard, fast bursts. The gelding stood a few yards behind him, trembling, reins dragging.
Deke climbed down the ridge on foot, revolver drawn. “Found him tryin’ to slip out.”
Eli’s eyes locked onto hers.
Fear.
Shame.
And something else—determination that scared her more than anything Boyd could do.
“Let him go,” Tessa said. “He’s done nothing.”
Boyd rode forward, slow and deliberate, until his horse’s nose almost touched hers. “You hear that, boy?” he said lightly. “She wants me to let you go.”
Eli said nothing. He stared straight at Boyd like he would burn a hole in him with the force of his glare.
Boyd chuckled. “Feisty little thing. Bet you thought you were helpin’ her.”
Eli’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent.
“Truth is,” Boyd said, leaning down, “you just made her worth more.”
Tessa stiffened. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Boyd said, “I ain’t gotta scare you no more. I scare him, you’ll talk just fine.”
Her blood chilled.
“No,” she whispered. “Boyd—”
He grinned. “So, let’s try this again. Where’s the stash? Gus didn’t hide all that without makin’ sure somebody could find it.”
Tessa felt the words hit like stones.
Her mind raced.
She looked from Boyd…to Eli…to the ridge…to the red country stretching behind them.
Not yet.
Not like this.
She couldn’t let Boyd hurt Eli—not that brave little soul who’d chased danger down on Sam’s gelding because he couldn’t bear to leave her alone.
Her breath trembled out.
“Fine,” she whispered. “Fine, Boyd. I’ll tell you.”
Red smirked. Deke tilted his head as if surprised she broke so quickly.
Boyd just watched her. Hard. Hungry. Victorious.
“I thought you might,” he said. “Where is it?”
Tessa forced herself to still.
Every instinct screamed to lie carefully, not too fast, not too eager.
She met Boyd’s gaze with hollow eyes.
“Not here,” she said. “Not close. I’ll have to lead you.”
Boyd stared at her long enough that she wondered if she’d said too much, too soon.
Then he smiled like a rattler showing its fangs.
“Well then,” he said softly, “lead the way.”
Tessa swallowed. Her pulse was in her throat.
She met Eli’s eyes and prayed he’d understand the one thing she couldn’t say out loud:
Hold on.
Night gathered in the cuts, turning the red stone to black edges and shifting shadows.
And with a boy in their hands and a woman tied to a sorrel horse, Boyd Carver rode straight into the badlands—following a lie she would make sure consumed him.