“Let him come,” he said.
They gathered what they could, mounted up, and turned down the trail. The forest closed behind them, hiding the bodies and swallowing the echoes of the fight.
Abigail looked once more over her shoulder. “Vanburgh won’t stop,” she said with a sigh.
“No,” Anthony said. “But neither will we.”
Chapter 27
The smoke of gunfire still lingered in the trees. The horses around them stamped nervously, and the echoes of the skirmish rolled away down the valley.
Anthony reloaded his Colt Navy revolver with steady hands, each click of the cylinder sharp in the hush that followed the violence. The bounty hunters lay scattered among the needles and brush.
Deputy Thomas Brigg wiped a sleeve across his face, leaving a streak of blood and dirt on his cheek. He spat on the ground, eyeing the bodies.
“It was one hell of a welcome, Hawk,” he said. “Vanburgh must’ve put a heavy purse on your head.”
Anthony holstered the revolver as he scanned the woods.
“Not just mine,” he replied. “All of ours. He won’t stop until Eagle Rock is his...no matter how many men he must bury.”
A few feet away, Abigail bent over one of the wounded bounty hunters. The man coughed once before falling still, leaving her grim-faced.
“They’ll keep coming,” she said quietly. “Every man Vanburgh hires is another pair of eyes watching the road. We can’t hold them off forever.”
Anthony nodded. His gaze drifted east, where the blue line of mountains stood tall against the horizon.
“That’s why we need a different move, ma’am,” Anthony replied.
Brigg squatted by the fire they had kindled, his broad shoulders tense. “And what move would that be?” he asked. “We got the deeds, sure. But paper don’t mean much if the courts are bought and the judges laugh you outta town.”
Reaching inside his coat, Anthony pulled out the iron box they’d salvaged from Abigail’s burned clinic. He set it between them, its weight heavy on the earth. He opened it carefully, revealing the deeds, the letter bearing her father’s hand, and the trust papers binding Eagle Rock to their name.
“This box is the only thing standing between Vanburgh and total claim,” Anthony said. “The originals are gold, but they’re also a target. If he gets hold of them, it’s finished.”
Abigail crossed her arms, clenching her jaw. “So, we guard them. Day and night, if we must.”
“Not all of them,” Anthony said, glancing at Brigg. “That’s too much risk in one place. We make copies. You take them to Denver.”
“Denver?” the deputy asked, straightening his back.
“Capitol’s the only place left where law might still count for something,” Anthony said. “Vanburgh’s reach runs long in these counties, but Denver...he don’t own every man there. With those deeds filed, we’ve got leverage. A legal foothold...even if the local courts spit in our faces.”
“That means splitting the box,” Abigail said, furrowing her eyebrows. “Copies with him, originals with us.”
“It’s safer that way, ma’am,” Anthony replied. “Even if Brigg gets cut down on the road, we’ll still hold the true claim. And if we fall, he carries the paper east...where Vanburgh’s hands can’t twist it so easy.”
The fire popped, sending sparks skyward. Brigg rubbed his chin, staring into the flames. “You’re asking me to ride near two hundred miles with bounty men behind every bush and hill. That’s a death run, Hawk.”
“You’re the one man I trust to pull it through,” Anthony said, his voice softening. “You’ve fought beside me and kept yourhead while the bullets flew. Denver will listen to you. You’ve got the right sort of tongue for lawmen...rough enough to earn respect, sharp enough to cut.”
“And you two?” Brigg asked, shifting uneasily. “Stay here, guarding scraps of paper while the wolves circle?”
“It’s not scraps,” Abigail said. “It’s proof. Proof of my father’s word, proof of what Eagle Rock is meant to be. I won’t abandon it to flames a second time.”
“We’ll dig in,” Anthony said, placing a hand on the box. “Hold the originals here where Vanburgh expects us least. But someone must carry word beyond his shadow. That’s you, Brigg.”
For a long moment, silence stretched. Brigg’s gaze moved between them as the fire painted his weathered features in red and gold. Finally, he exhaled. “Damn you both,” he muttered. “I swore I was done running errands for dead men’s papers. But you’re right. Denver’s the only chance.”
