He thought of his wife’s smile, of Blaze riding bareback across the pasture, of little Rachel laughing as she chased chickens. He saw them as clear as day, and it steadied him.
With his last breath, he whispered, “They’ll outlast you.”
Wilder sneered. Then he stood, holstered his gun, and waved his men.
Chapter 1
Buckeye Ranch, Nevada, May 23, 1883
Blaze Buckeye woke to the sound of horses nickering in the corral. Dawn light spilled through the cracks in the shutters, painting lines across the wooden floor. He swung his legs off the cot, pulled on his boots, and grabbed his hat.
By the time he stepped outside, the desert was already warming. Heat shimmered low on the horizon, though the air still held a bite from the night. He crossed the yard, stretching the sleep from his shoulders.
Rachel was already at the fence, brushing dust from the mare’s coat. She looked up, her twelve-year-old face shaded by a too-large straw hat.
“You’re late,” she said.
“I’m right on time,” Blaze answered. He reached for a comb hanging on the rail.
“Sun’s been up forever,” Rachel said.
“Forever’s twenty minutes?” Blaze replied.
She grinned but kept brushing. “I did more work than you already.”
“You always say that,” Blaze said. “You want a medal?”
“Wouldn’t hurt,” she said.
Blaze shook his head, smiling despite himself. He worked the comb down the mare’s flank in steady strokes, dust rising into the light.
From the porch, their mother’s voice carried.
“Blaze, Rachel, don’t waste the morning jawin’. Horses don’t brush themselves.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Blaze called back.
Rachel mimicked under her breath, “Yes, ma’am,” and flicked a bit of dust at him with the brush.
He gave her a sharp look, but his grin returned a moment later.
They worked side by side until the mare’s coat shone. Blaze stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow.
“She’s ready,” he said.
Rachel gave the horse one last pat. “Ready for town, you mean. Think Ma will let you go this time?”
Blaze shook his head. “Somebody’s gotta stay here.”
“You never go,” Rachel said.
“I’ll go when Ma says so,” Blaze replied.
Rachel pursed her lips. “You don’t want to?”
“Don’t make a difference,” Blaze said.
Rachel leaned her arms on the rail. “Mrs. Kane says people still talk about Pa in town. You oughta hear it yourself.”
