“I can do that,” Blaze said.
“Can you?” Marisol asked. “Because out there, you don’t get time to think about it. You shoot, or you die.”
“I’ll shoot,” Blaze said. “When it’s Wilder. I won’t hesitate.”
Her jaw tightened. “You better not.”
A gust of wind rattled the shutters on the outside of the cabin. Blaze found a rotting plank of wood by the hearth and threw it on the fire. Sparks spiraled up like tiny ghosts.
Marisol went to the corner of the cabin and sat down with her back against the wall. “We’ll ride at dawn,” she said.
“Where to?” Blaze asked.
“Red Mesa,” she said. “I heard that Wilder’s men pass through there to resupply. If we’re lucky, we’ll catch a glimpse of him.”
“The tracks we followed before led south,” Graycloud said. “Toward Red Mesa. He’s consolidating. Something is coming.”
“Then we’ll find out what,” Blaze said.
Marisol didn’t answer. She just stared into the fire.
After a while, Blaze got up and went outside. The night was cold enough to sting his lungs. He stood looking at the stars. They were wide over the mountains. The place was so quiet, he could almost hear Nancy’s hooves again. It was the rhythm that had carried him across half of Nevada.
He knelt in the dirt and thought about her again. About how he found her after the fire. She had survived so much, but she couldn’t survive Wilder’s ambush.
He stayed there for a while, until the cold bit through his jacket. When he went back in, Graycloud was sitting by the embers. Marisol was on the other side of the cabin with her arms folded and her chin tucked close to her chest.
It looked like she was asleep.
“She was too hard on you,” Graycloud said.
“Maybe she’s right,” Blaze said. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”
“She sees your fear because she remembers her own,” Graycloud said. “Don’t hold it against her.”
Blaze furrowed his brows. He didn’t like anybody thinking he was afraid. He wasn’t, was he?
If he had been afraid, he would have never made it this far.
“I don’t,” Blaze said. “But I can’t let her keep thinking I’m weak.”
“Then show her strength,” Graycloud said. “Not by killing, but by surviving.”
“You sound like you been through this before.”
Graycloud smiled faintly. “Everyone has. The first time you point a gun at a man and see his eyes staring back, that is when you learn who you are.”
“What did you learn?”
“That I do not enjoy killing,” Graycloud said. “But I do it when I must.”
The Indian rose and placed a hand on Blaze’s shoulder. “Try to get some rest. You will need your strength for tomorrow.”
Blaze nodded, lying down on the rough floorboards. He could hear Marisol’s slow breathing across the room. The fire had burned low, casting soft shadows.
He closed his eyes, but his mind wouldn’t quiet. Every shot from earlier in the day replayed in his head: the snap of rifles, the scream of his horse, the way his hands had trembled when he drew his revolver.
That was when he thought of his father and the way he’d stood in the doorway years ago with his gun in hand. He knew something was coming. Even then, he’d looked so sure of himself. So unafraid.
