“No,” he said evenly. “Followed the same trail you did. Hollow Creek Riders.”
That made Blaze straighten even more. “Are you after them too?”
“They killed my uncle,” Chato said. “Took gold from our people’s ground. Sacred land. They think it’s just dirt and metal. They’ll learn otherwise.”
“Guess we’ve all got reason to see them dead,” Blaze said quietly.
Chato studied him for a moment. “You’re young.”
“Old enough,” Blaze replied.
A faint smile touched the Indian’s mouth. “Maybe.”
Finally, Marisol lowered her rifle, though her eyes stayed wary. “You said you’re tracking them. How far ahead are they?”
Chato stepped closer and brushed his hand through the dust on the ground.
“Two days, maybe less,” he said. “They’re riding light. Got pack horses. No women, no wagons. You’re headed right, but too slow.”
Blaze stared at the Indian. If Chato claimed that the Riders were riding light, it must have meant that they had already dropped off their gold from the stagecoach robbery.
Was Chato mistaken? Was he overlooking certain details?
Either way, Blaze let it go. He supposed none of it mattered as much as staying on the right track.
“We’re careful,” Marisol replied. “That’s how you live.”
“That’s how you lose them,” Chato replied.
The air between them tightened. Blaze stepped in before words turned sharp. “Hold up,” he said. “We all want the same thing. Maybe we help each other.”
Marisol shot him a look. “You trust him?”
“He could’ve shot us from those rocks,” Blaze said. “Seems like reason enough.”
Chato rose to his feet. “I work alone.”
“Then you’ll die alone,” Blaze said quietly. “There’s three of us. Three reasons to see those outlaws gone. Seems smarter to ride together.”
Marisol crossed her arms. “And who put you in charge?”
“No one,” Blaze replied, shrugging. “Just saying what makes sense.”
For a long moment, no one spoke. The wind picked up, carrying grit and the faint cry of a hawk. Then Chato gave a slow nod.
“I’ll ride with you,” he said. “Until the Riders are dead.”
“And after?” Marisol asked.
He looked at her. “After, I go my own way.”
Blaze let out the breath he’d been holding. “Good enough for me.”
***
They packed up in silence, the uneasy truce hanging between them. When they mounted, Chato took the lead, scanning the horizon as if he could read the land’s every whisper.
“How do you know which way they went?” Blaze asked as they rode.
