Shea had shifted to watch their pursuers asJames took up the explanation, hoping her part in the conversationwas finished. The scenery passed by unnoticed as Shea’s focusturned inward at his question.
“Shea?”
She looked up, her gaze sliding past James tothe string of sharp hills looming large. “Once.” Sadness whisperedthrough her. She’d barely made it out that one time. Many othershad not. Clearing her throat abruptly, she shook off her thoughts.“We shouldn’t have a problem. We’re on the very edge, and we won’tgo any further in than we absolutely have to.”
The stranger’s gaze sharpened on her, pickingup on her hidden expressions and making her feel exposed. A sharpcrack forestalled any questions.
“Damn it. I can’t hit shit like this.” Daneadjusted his grip on his weapon, shifting forward and wedginghimself into the corner of the wagon. He took another shot and thencursed roundly as it missed. “I’m just wasting ammo.”
“No, wait. Look,” the stranger Dane haddrafted said, pointing as the mob split to either side of thewagon, while still maintaining their distance.
“That’s not better. Now I have two groups totry to hit.”
“Yes, but they’re being careful not to get inrange now.” The stranger with the gray eyes turned to Shea. “That’swhat you were hoping for, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Now you just wait until they start edgingcloser again before firing,” the stranger instructed.
The next few minutes were tense as Dane triedto hold off the mob with a few well-timed rounds.
Witt urged the wagon faster. There were a fewhair-raising seconds where the wagon almost tipped as the ride gotrougher. All it would take was one good bump, and they would all besent flying.
The Badlands were just ahead.
“Drive along their edge. We need to find agood entry point,” Shea shouted at Witt.
Steep rolling hills that lurked like giantbeasts announced the boundary of the Badlands. Very littlevegetation broke up the stark browns and grays.
“There.” Shea pointed at a slim dip betweentwo sheer rock faces. “Get as close as you can beforestopping.”
Shea was hoping the path would be narrowenough to prevent their pursuers from following on horseback. Sheneeded the men chasing them to dismount. Otherwise, Shea’s groupwould just be run down before they could hide.
Witt pulled the horses up sharply, almostsending the wagon crashing into their rears. Dane and the strangerjumped down while Shea and the whiskey-eyed man helped lower Cam tothe ground.
The mob surged forward.
Dane dropped to one knee, cradling theweapon’s stock to his shoulder and bracing his elbow against hisraised knee. Without the obstacle of the wagon, he picked off twomen while Shea and the others raced toward the small gap.
He followed quickly after them.
ChapterThree
The narrow space forced their group to runsingle file. It wasn’t long before the defined depression betweenthe two hills turned into a narrow gorge. Granite cliffs toweredover them on either side, allowing only thin rays of light tofilter down. A river must have run through there at one time, thewater eating away at the rock over millions of years beforeeventually drying up.
It was perfect. The villagers wouldn’t beable to ride their horses after them. They’d have to follow onfoot.
A hundred feet in, the crevasse cut sharplyright, hiding them from sight.
They moved quickly.
Witt and one of the strangers supported Camas Shea slipped past to race ahead to scout possible routes. A deadend meant death.
Dane brought up the rear, turning everycouple of feet to make sure their pursuers weren’t getting tooclose.
Shea didn’t hold out much hope that thevillagers would let superstition keep them from following.
Sure enough, the sound of pursuit beganquickly, shouts echoing in the tiny space.
