“Nothing’s gonna happen to me, ma’am,” he said low. “Not yet.”
Her eyes searched his face. “You sound sure.”
“I’ve walked too far for it to end easy. And if it does...” His voice dropped. “If it does, I’ll go down swinging.”
Her hand tightened slightly on his, holding him there. “You always think of the fight,” she whispered. “Never the after.”
“The after?”
“Yes,” Abigail said. “After Vanburgh. After Eagle Rock is safe. After the dust settles.” She gave a faint smile that trembled at the edges. “What then?” she asked.
For once, Anthony didn’t have an answer ready. He looked at her as the fire softened her tired face, and for a moment, he saw something he’d buried long ago.
A chance at peace. Laughter. No more violence.
“I reckon,” he said slowly, “we’ll figure it out. Together.”
The word hung between them heavier than any rifle. Abigail’s breath caught, and in her eyes, he saw hope flicker like the fire. But hope couldn’t last long in the basin’s silence. She eased her hand free, folding it into her lap.
“We will plan it through,” Abigail confirmed. “His guards, his stores, the lay of the canyon. We use the land against him. No mistakes.”
Anthony nodded. “No mistakes.”
The fire sank lower, its light turning ember-red. Anthony leaned back against the cottonwood, with his bow still across his knees. Abigail curled into herself, her face turned toward him though her eyes closed slowly.
Above them, the stars sharpened in the cold sky. The world felt still. It was like the breath before a storm.
Anthony watched the horizon where Eagle Rock waited and where Vanburgh’s powder kegs gleamed in the dark. His chest tightened, but it didn’t come from fear. He was not afraid.
Tomorrow they would strike. Tomorrow it would begin or end.
He glanced once more at Abigail, her breathing steady but shallow. The fire’s glow brushed her cheek. She wasn’t asleep. He knew that. Neither of them could be, not with what loomed ahead.
Anthony shifted his grip on the bow and settled against the tree. The night pressed closer, and the silence deepened. Somewhere beyond the ridges, Vanburgh prepared his fire.
But here in the basin, Anthony and Abigail held their own flame.
And neither was ready to let it go out.
Chapter 29
Anthony sat with his back against a boulder, the faint glow of the campfire throwing just enough light to catch the sharp planes of his face. The flames were small, but they licked against the stone as if even they were too restless to stay still. Abigail sat opposite him with her knees drawn up.
The silence pressed down on them from the ridges above, broken only by the snap of the fire and the far-off trickle of the creek. They must have stayed in the same position for hours.
Neither one of them could sleep.
Their bodies were worn, but their minds kept circling back to the same place: the canyon beyond where Vanburgh’s men were said to be hammering their powder into the bones of Eagle Rock.
Abigail’s voice broke the stillness first. “Brigg must be halfway to Denver by now,” she murmured. “If he makes it through without Vanburgh’s men cutting him off, he’ll bring back the law.”
Her tone was quiet and steady on the surface, but Anthony heard the strain underneath. The doubt. He kept his gaze on the fire a moment longer, then lifted his eyes to hers.
“That’s a mighty bigif, ma’am,” he said. The flames glinted in his dark pupils, restless as the thought itself. “Vanburgh don’t wait on judges,” he continued. “By the time Brigg gets back with papers stamped in Denver, this canyon may already be dust. Vanburgh’s not the patient sort. He’ll light his fuses the second he sees profit in the rubble.”
Abigail looked down, her hands knotting together in her lap. “Then we don’t wait either.”
“You’re saying what I’ve been thinking, ma’am,” Anthony replied. “We need to know what he’s building down there. How far along he is...And the only way to learn is to walk right into the wolf’s den.”
