The streets were quiet at this hour, and the sky was bruised with the last shade of night. A few lanterns still glowed in the windows, and the first wisp of smoke from cooking fires drifted above the rooftops. Somewhere, a rooster crowed, sharp and thin in the stillness.
“Blaze?” Rachel whispered. “Where do we go?”
“To Kane,” Blaze said. “Pa always said we could trust him.”
There was a pause. When Blaze looked at her, she was frowning.
“Do you really trust him?” she asked.
Blaze hesitated. “Enough. He knew Pa better than most. He’ll take you in.”
They crossed the main street, boots stirring up dust. A dog barked, chained by the livery stable. Rachel leaned into Blaze, too tired to stand on her own. Blaze draped her arm across his shoulders, carrying most of her weight as they climbed the boardwalk.
A lantern burned behind the curtains of the Kane house, a squat place of timber with a wide porch. Blaze raised his fist and knocked—three hard raps.
For a long moment, nothing. Then slow footsteps creaked across the floor inside. The door cracked open, and a man’s facepeered through. His beard was streaked with gray, and his eyes were sharp even in the dim light.
“Blaze Buckeye?” Robert Kane said, surprised.
“It’s me,” Blaze said. “We need help.”
Kane opened the door wider, letting the lamplight spill over them. His eyes fell on Rachel, pale and trembling at Blaze’s side. “Good Lord. Get inside, quick.”
They stepped into the warm glow of the parlor, the smell of tobacco and coffee filling the air. Kane shut the door quickly and drew the bolt.
“What happened?” Kane asked.
“They came back,” Blaze said. His voice cracked, but he forced the words out. “The Riders. Dean Wilder. They shot Ma. Burned the house. We barely made it out.”
Rachel whimpered and pressed her face into Blaze’s arm. Kane’s expression hardened, though his eyes lingered too long on the girl before flicking back to Blaze.
“Sit her down,” Kane said. “By the fire. She needs warmth.”
Blaze guided Rachel to the chair, lowering her gently. Kane fetched a blanket from the couch and draped it over her shoulders. Rachel clutched it tightly, shivering.
“Water,” Blaze said. “She needs water.”
Kane nodded, pouring from a jug into a tin cup. Rachel sipped, her lips trembling. Blaze knelt beside her and rubbed her arm.
“You’re safe now,” Kane said, crouching close. “Both of you. Wilder won’t dare storm a town in daylight.”
Blaze looked at him sharply. “He dared everything last night.”
“You’re right,” Kane said, pressing his lips into a thin line. “He’s reckless. Always was.”
“He killed Mama,” Rachel added quietly.
Blaze’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, he did.”
Kane put a hand on Blaze’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. Your father was my friend. I’ll see Rachel safe, I promise you that.”
Blaze looked into his eyes. The words sounded right, but there was something behind the gaze. Something calculating, something that lingered a moment too long on the blanket-wrapped figure by the fire. Blaze shifted closer to Rachel, shielding her.
“You’ll watch her,” Blaze said flatly.
“I will,” Kane replied. “On my life. She’ll have food, warmth, and a roof overhead. You have my word.”
Rachel looked up, eyes red from crying. “Blaze, you’re not leaving me, are you?”
