“They’ll leave tracks,” he said. “Riders that many can’t hide their trail. Not from me. Not from Pa’s son.”
The horse flicked an ear, as if listening.
“You believe me, don’t you?” Blaze asked. “That I can do this?”
Nancy gave a soft grunt.
“That’s more than I believe in myself half the time,” Blaze muttered.
They rode on, the morning wind tugging at Blaze’s shirt as the desert woke around them. A hawk circled high above. Jackrabbits darted between sagebrush. Somewhere far off, the faint line of mountains cut the sky.
Blaze kept his eyes low, watching for the signs Pa had taught him years before: hoofprints, broken twigs, disturbed earth.
“Pa said tracking’s just listening with your eyes,” Blaze said. “Said the land talks if you’re patient enough. Well, I’m listenin’ now.”
He leaned forward, patting Nancy’s neck.
“And when I find ’em, I’ll make Wilder pay. I swear it, Ma. By your grave. By everything I’ve got left. I ain’t stoppin’. Not till he’s in the dirt.”
The desert wind carried the words away, but Blaze felt them sink deep inside him, a promise carved sharper than any blade.
Nancy snorted, ears pricked forward.
“What is it?” Blaze asked, pulling her to a halt.
The mare pawed the ground, restless.
Blaze scanned the horizon again. Nothing but endless scrub and dust. Still, the horse’s unease prickled at him.
“You smell ’em, don’t you?” Blaze said. “The Riders. They ain’t far. They can’t be.” Automatically, his hand brushed the Colt revolver at his side. “Let ’em come,” Blaze whispered. “I’ll be ready.”
He nudged Nancy forward, deeper into the desert, leaving the ruins of the Buckeye ranch behind.
After a few moments, Blaze reined the horse to a stop atop a low rise. The ruined homestead lay below, small and fragile against the vast desert. He stayed in the saddle with a heavy heart, letting the wind carry the acrid scent of ash and char toward him.
“This is it,” he said, exhaling slowly. “The last time I’ll see it like this.”
He watched the ruined yard, the scorched barn, the fields where he and Rachel had played, the path where Pa had taught him to ride. His chest tightened. The memories pressed against him, fleeting and unyielding.
A dry breeze whispered across the ridge. Blaze gave a small, grim nod.
“Goodbye,” he murmured, his voice carrying across the empty land. “Nothing will ever be the same. Not for me, not for anyone left behind.”
He shifted in the saddle, feeling the weight of the journey ahead settle like a stone in his gut. The path before him was endless desert, unknown and unforgiving. No home to return to, no comfort waiting...only the mission he had sworn to complete.
Blaze touched the reins lightly, leaning forward to press a hand against Nancy’s neck.
“Let’s go,” he said.
The mare moved obediently.
Chapter 9
The mare’s hooves clopped along the dirt road, steady and patient under the heat. Blaze kept one hand loose on the reins, the other resting near his father’s Colt. The weapon wasn’t drawn, but just knowing it sat there at his hip was a comfort. The sun had been burning high all morning, and he’d long since stopped counting the miles.
When the town finally came into view, he almost laughed with relief. It wasn’t much—a scatter of wood-plank buildings hunched against the wide plain.
A half dozen storefronts faced a main street, a water trough, a livery barn leaning like an old drunk, and a church spire rising above it all. The place didn’t even look like it had a name nailed up anywhere. But it was enough.
