Chapter 1
Silver City, Idaho, 1879
Slade “The Blade” Cassidy tightened his legs around his horse, urging Africa to move faster. A small group of bandits had robbed the general store and was in for a big surprise. Unlike law enforcement in most other towns, Sheriff Ethan Wolfe didn’t stop chasing outlaws once they reached the border.
Bandits thought that if they could outrun the law and get to the mountains surrounding Silver City, they would be free, but that always proved to be incorrect. Blade knew the mountains like the back of his hand, and so did Wolfe. Since working together, not a single bandit had escaped.
“I’ll go right,” Blade called, one hand on Africa’s reins, the other on his Colt double-action. “You go left.”
Wolfe nodded and steered his horse to the left as Blade continued on a little further and then took a narrow path leading right. The bandits continued straight, heading to themountains. As if knowing what to do, Africa broke into a sprint. At such a speed, no other horse could catch him. Even as they made their way around and up the mountain, Africa’s movements were fast and precise.
Following an overgrown path, Blade could see the bandits in the distance. They had slowed down, just as he had suspected they would. The path was wide, but they were blocked off from both sides, meaning they had nowhere to go but up or back down. The path further up was too steep for horses, and going down wasn’t really an option.
Blade could see the moment the bandits realized that they were in trouble. They had turned right but stopped in their tracks when they noticed him approaching. Their first instinct was to turn around, but Wolfe was already there, making it impossible for them to escape.
“Put your hands up!” Wolfe called, his pistol aimed at the four men.
Blade watched in anticipation. Sometimes bandits gave up, but most of the time they didn’t.
One of the outlaws lifted his arms as if to surrender and then quickly slipped off his horse and drew his firearm. Blade didn’t mind at all; he enjoyed a good old gunfight, but he had instructions from Wolfe that he had to consider. Blade, unlike Wolfe, wasn’t exactly a lawman; he was simply helping the sheriff and learning, so he had to obey the rules.
“Always try to incapacitate and capture them before going for the kill,” Wolfe had instructed him all those years ago.
Blade tried to honor Wolfe’s request as much as he could, but sometimes, playing nice just wasn’t an option.
Wanting to escape, the bandits moved in different directions. The one who had drawn his weapon was crouched down beside his horse. One had decided to race his horse down the mountain path, back toward the town, and the other two had opted to abandon their horses to climb up the mountain.
Blade’s eyes followed their movements, and within a split second, he knew what to do. Time was precious in such situations, and hesitating to act could mean the difference between life and death. The first bandit that needed to be taken care of was the one pointing his pistol at Wolfe. Blade drew his Colt Rainmaker, aimed it at the man’s shoulder, and pulled the trigger. The .32 slug hit its target, causing the bandit to drop his weapon. Wolfe could take it from there.
Blade turned his attention to his next target: the man racing down the mountain. He had put some distance between them, but not enough to get away. Holstering his Colt, Blade grabbed his 1873 Winchester rifle and pointed it at the retreating man. The bandit’s horse was barely keeping its balance, and there was a very real possibility that the animal would fall over, but Blade wasn’t into taking chances.
It took him only seconds to aim the 20-inch barrel and pull the trigger. Blade never harmed animals; they were innocent, but he had no problem with hurting deserving people. The .44 slug landed, and the outlaw went toppling off his horse. Unfortunately, the man would live since Blade had aimed for his upper back, toward his shoulder. He would be in a lot of pain, though, and knowing that made Blade feel a little better.
Turning on his heels, Blade’s eyes found his next two targets. The men were scrambling up the mountain, but the slope was steep, and they were struggling. From the corner of his eye, Blade could see the first bandit he had shot, lying on the ground, his wrists cuffed behind his back.
Deciding he had a moment to spare, Blade glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Wolfe was okay. The sheriff was making his way down the mountain toward the other bandit, so Blade focused on the task at hand. The closest bandit was a mere ten feet up the slope. It was rather pathetic, actually. Not even bothering to aim properly, Blade shot off his rifle, knowing the bullet would hit. He got the man in the thigh, causing him to lose his grip and tumble down, hitting the ground with a loud thud.
Since Wolfe was still busy, Blade quickly secured his rifle in the leather sling around his back before cuffing the man squirming at his feet. With that done, he decided to have some fun. Blade loved firearms, but what he loved even more were knives. Attached to his gun belt was a set of five bowie knives, all different sizes and sharpened to kill. Drawing the shortest knife, Blade adjusted his stance, leaned back, and threw it.The sun danced off the metal as it flew through the air and collided with the bandit’s left hand. A loud scream escaped the man’s mouth as he struggled to keep his hold on the mountain wall.
Blade pulled another knife and hurled it at the bandit’s right hand. The sharp metal sliced through flesh and bone and dug into the mountain behind it. For a brief moment, the man hung only by the knife pinning him to the mountain, and then he came crashing down. He fell further than the other bandit, knocking the breath away from him.
Stepping over him, Blade retrieved his knives, wiped them clean on the outlaw’s shirt, and sheathed them.
“You got all of them?” Wolfe asked as he dragged the bandit up the hill.
“Sure did.” Blade bent down, rolled the bandit onto his stomach, and cuffed him. “These four aren’t going anywhere but prison.”
Wolfe walked over and pulled the bandit, who was still struggling to catch his breath, to his feet. “Used your knives on this one?” he asked, raising a brow.
Blade shrugged. “Couldn’t resist.”
Wolfe shook his head as he chuckled. “You have better aim with those things than most trained men have with a pistol or rifle.”
It was true, but Blade wasn’t one to brag or show off. He had worked hard to become the fighter and marksman he was, but he did it with only one purpose in mind. Soon enough, revenge would be his. For now, he was satisfied with his contribution to keeping those he held dear and Silver City safe.
“They should practice more,” Blade stated.
“I guess that’s true.” Wolfe walked over to one of the bandits’ horses and led the animal closer. “Still not sure they’ll be able to achieve what you have.”
