Chapter 33
The Long Road Back
They cleared the hollow fast, leaving the bodies behind and the echoes of gunfire swallowed by stone. Outside the cut, the air felt sharper, cleaner—almost cold after the burn of fear.
Tessa tightened her arms around Sam’s waist. “Sam,” she murmured, “you with me?”
A low grunt was her answer—half pain, half effort, but alive. Blood still leaked from the gash beneath the bandage across his temple, sliding along the line of his jaw before dripping onto his shirt. The flow had slowed, but it wasn’t stopping.
Reed rode close enough to touch him if Sam leaned too far. “Stay awake, Sam.”
Sam made a faint noise that might have meant he was trying.
Behind them, Pike led the tethered string of spare horses, their bridles knotted together in a controlled line. Deke lay hog-tied across a saddle farther back, groaning when the horse shifted. Eli rode between Pike and Rafe—safe, shaken, and watching Sam with wide, worried eyes.
They moved slowly into the badlands, following the safest line out of the jagged country. Hoofbeats thudded against red dirt. Stone walls pinched close and opened again. Dust rose in thin, tired clouds.
Sam sagged forward.
Tessa immediately pulled him back, bracing him against her chest. “Sam—stay with me.”
He blinked hard, unfocused. “‘M tryin’.”
“Then keep leaning on me,” she whispered. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”
Reed cast a quick look over his shoulder. “How’s he doin’?”
“Awake,” she said. “Barely.”
“That’ll have to do.”
They kept on.
Minutes stretched into miles. The country changed shape around them—stone spires giving way to rolling ribs of earth, the light slanting lower with every slow step. Sam slumped again, heavier this time, nearly pulling her sideways.
Tessa locked an arm around his chest and held them both steady. “Sam. Look at me.”
He didn’t, but he breathed out a slurred answer. “Didn’t… didn’t let him touch you.”
Her throat tightened. “I know. You saved us.”
His head rolled against her shoulder. “Good.”
Eli rode closer, gripping his reins with both hands. “Is he gonna…?”
“Yes,” Tessa said at once, sharp as a blade. “He’s going to be fine.”
Then softer, for Eli alone: “He just needs to get home.”
Rafe rode up beside her, steadying the gelding with a palm against its neck. “He’ll make it. We’re not that far.”
They pushed on.
***
The afternoon bled into evening. Fatigue settled over them like dust. Pike kept glancing back toward the hollow, making sure nothing followed. Reed scanned every ridge. Rafe rode point, guiding them toward the valley with steady purpose.
Sam stirred again—barely.
“Tess…” His voice was a scrape of gravel.
“I’m here.”
One blood-slick hand groped weakly behind him until it found her wrist. His fingers closed, loose but deliberate. “You’re safe.”
She held him tighter, pressing her forehead gently to the back of his head. “Yes. Because of you.”
The ridge ahead softened into familiar shapes. Shadows stretched long across the land. Reed exhaled hard. “There. Last rise. Home stretch.”
Below them, the valley lay open and waiting—green where the badlands were red, safe where the cuts were cruel. Smoke curled from chimneys. Somewhere down there were doors that shut, hands that steadied, and beds that didn’t bleed.
Tessa brushed Sam’s hair back, keeping him awake. “Sam? Tell me something.”
A faint sound escaped him—half laugh, half groan. “Could… use a drink.”
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.
“We’ll get you one,” she whispered. “Just a little longer.”
She kept him upright all the way down the ridge, her arms a firm, steady anchor across his ribs, holding him tight as the last light faded behind the ridge.
***
The ridge dropped away beneath them, the badlands breaking into shadow. Evening settled fast—too fast. The horses’ breathing steamed in the cooling air, and the light sank low enough that even Rafe’s sure-footed horse began to falter on loose stone.
Pike slowed first. “We’re stoppin’.”
Tessa stiffened in the saddle. “We can’t. He needs a doctor—he needs—”
Reed turned in his saddle, gentle but firm. “Tessa. Look at the ground. One wrong step in the dark and every one of us goes over a ledge. Including Sam.”
She swallowed hard, breath catching. The truth of it was undeniable. Sam’s weight sagged heavier against her, his head lolling.
Reed softened his voice. “We stop now, or we lose him before morning.”
Her hands tightened around Sam’s waist. She nodded once, sharp but shaky. “All right.”
They found a shallow overhang tucked against a sloped rise, just wide enough for shelter and just hidden enough to feel like a reprieve. The wind cut across the open rock, but the overhang caught most of it.
Rafe helped Tessa ease Sam down. The moment his boots hit the ground, his legs buckled. Reed caught him under both arms.
“Easy,” Reed murmured. “We’ve got you.”
Sam made no protest—only a soft grunt as Reed and Rafe lowered him onto a blanket near the back wall.
Tessa knelt beside him. Eli sank down on her other side, shoulder pressed against her hip, eyes locked on Sam as if afraid he would fade out of sight.
Pike tethered the line of spare horses to a stubborn sage root and checked each tie twice.
Rafe dragged Deke off the saddle and eased him to the ground beside a flat stretch of rock.
The outlaw groaned, half-conscious, his shirt soaked dark along the side where the bullet had torn through.
Reed knelt long enough to press a clean cloth to the wound and wrap it tight.
It wasn’t tender, but it wasn’t cruel either—just efficient, the way a man handles another man who might live if given half a chance.
“Water,” Rafe said.
Pike passed a canteen over, and Rafe tipped a small swallow into Deke’s mouth. The outlaw swallowed weakly.
“That’s all you get,” Rafe murmured. “More’ll make you sick.”
They tied his hands and feet securely—but not painfully—and propped him so he could breathe easier.
Reed crouched by Sam, unwrapping the blood-soaked bandage. Fresh crimson welled at the edges, slower now but still too much.
“Hold him up,” Reed said gently.
Tessa slid her arms behind Sam’s back, lifting him against her chest. His head lolled, cheek brushing her shoulder. His breath warmed the hollow of her throat.
Reed cleaned the wound again with the last of their water, hands steady, jaw tight enough to crack.
Sam stirred at the cold, eyes blinking open in a dazed flutter. “Tess…?”
“I’m here.” She smoothed his hair back.
“You’re… safe?” His voice rasped like gravel.
“Yes.” Her voice shook. “Because of you.”
Sam’s gaze drifted, unfocused, trying to find something in the dusk. “Eli…? He all right…?”
Eli scooted closer immediately. “I’m right here, Sam.”
Sam’s shoulders loosened, some deep knot inside him unspooling at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Good…” he breathed.
He managed a faint smile before slipping under again, leaning fully into Tessa.
Reed finished binding the wound tighter this time, knotting the cloth at Sam’s temple. “That’ll hold ‘til morning. Bleeding’s easing.”
They built a small fire—tiny, tucked close to avoid throwing shadows across the ridges. Eli huddled beside Tessa, staring at the flames.
“I thought he was gonna die,” Eli whispered.
Tessa wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “He didn’t. He fought to get to us.”
Eli nodded hard, swallowing thickly.
Across the fire, Rafe rolled his shoulders. “We’ll take watches. Reed, you first?”
Reed didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed on Sam. “I’m not sleepin’.”
“Reed—” Rafe began.
“No.” The word cut short, sharp. “Boyd came after her because of me. My arrest. My choices.” He lifted his eyes finally, tired and burning. “I’m not closin’ my eyes tonight.”
Rafe didn’t argue. He simply nodded.
***
The night deepened around them. Coyotes yipped somewhere far off. The tethered horses stomped and blew, settling in a restless half-sleep. Deke groaned once but kept quiet.
Sam drifted in and out, never fully waking. Each time he stirred, Tessa tightened her arms around him and whispered, “I’m right here. Don’t move.”
Sam stirred again, a low groan pushing past his lips. His head shifted against her shoulder.
“Eli…?” he mumbled, barely forming the word.
Tessa leaned close, steadying him. “He’s right here, Sam.”
Eli scooted closer at once, voice small but sure. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Sam let out a soft breath—almost a sigh—like that truth settled something deep inside him, and he drifted off again.
Near midnight, he murmured something barely voiced—her name, breathed like a thought he didn’t mean to speak. Tessa’s throat tightened, but she said nothing, just held him closer.
They waited out the night like that—exhausted, stiff, cold, but together.
Dawn crawled over the horizon in pale gold. Reed roused them with a quiet, “Let’s move.”
Sam was harder to wake, but he blinked when Tessa touched his face. “We’re goin’ home,” she whispered. “You hear me? Home.”
He breathed a shallow yes and let them lift him back onto the gelding. She climbed up behind him again; arms firm around his waist.
The ride down from the last ridge was long, but the land smoothed beneath them, changing from broken red stone to the green-and-gold valley they knew.
Rafe rode ahead and lifted a hand.
“There,” he said.
Home.
Smoke rose from chimneys. The big barn caught the early light. Dogs barked. Someone shouted—high, young, relieved.
Isaac sprinted into view, tripping over his own feet when he saw Tessa and Eli first—and then skidding to a stop when he saw Sam slumped in the saddle.
Jo was right behind him, her hand flying to her mouth. Abby yelled for hot water before she even reached them.
Reed and Rafe flanked Sam as Tessa eased him down. His legs collapsed instantly. Reed caught him under one arm, Tessa under the other.
“You’re home,” Tessa whispered to him as they carried him toward the house. “You’re safe.”
Only then, finally, did Sam let go.