“No,” Blaze said. “But Rachel don’t have time for me to be ready.”
Graycloud gave a sharp nod. “Then we ride.”
The three of them turned their horses toward Red Rock Crossing. Dust rose behind them, trailing over the desert.
Blaze reached into his coat pocket one last time, feeling the crumpled poster between his fingers. He thought about tearing it up but decided against it. Instead, he folded it tighter and tucked it close to his chest.
Some truths were better carried than forgotten.
Chapter 40
The afternoon sun baked Red Rock Crossing in a pale, restless heat. Dust drifted down the main street, curling around wagon wheels and shuttered storefronts. The town had grown quiet since the rumors started—rumors of gunfire in the hills and the Riders being wiped out.
People kept their voices low, waiting for the wind to carry some proof of what was true.
Rachel walked up the steps of the small white church with a wicker basket tucked under her arm. Inside were strips of linen, bandages, and a few herbs she’d picked up from Mrs. Gorice that morning.
She was trying to keep her hands busy and her mind off the ache in her chest every time she thought of Blaze.
“Thank you, Mrs. Gorice,” she had said earlier when the old woman passed her the folded cloth.
“Just stay inside after dusk, girl,” the woman had warned. “The kind of men still walking around this town...they’re like snakes that don’t know they’re dead yet.”
Rachel had smiled faintly, though her stomach twisted.
She’d seen Kane earlier that morning, standing near the livery talking to strangers. His coat looked dusty, and his face was drawn tight.
Now, she reached for the church door. Then she froze.
“Rachel,” a voice called behind her.
Her fingers tightened around the basket handle. She turned slowly. Kane stood a few yards away, shadow obscuring most of his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Afternoon,” he said.
“Kane,” she replied, trying to sound calm. “I was just—”
He started walking toward her, boots thudding against the boards. “Just what? Hiding out in there?”
“I was helping Pastor Albright,” she said. “We’re tending to the sick. That’s all.”
Kane’s smile was thin and joyless. “Funny thing. You end up in that church most of the time now. Like the Lord’s gonna protect you from what’s coming.”
Rachel took a step back. “Kane, please—”
He grabbed her wrist.
“Let me go,” Rachel said.
Her voice carried clearly through the afternoon heat, slicing through the quiet of Red Rock Crossing’s main street. Kane’s fingers tightened around her wrist instead of loosening. His grip felt like steel, driven by desperation.
“Don’t make a scene,” Kane said.
“Then stop manhandling me,” she said. “You already made your scene.”
The pastor’s wife had been sweeping the porch of the church when she heard the commotion. She froze mid-motion, broom suspended in the air. The pastor himself stepped out next.
“Mr. Kane,” the pastor said. “That’s no way to treat a young lady.”
