Marisol’s hand went to her hip. “Outlaws?”
The man backed up a step. “There’re posters. All over town. Says there’s a price on your heads.”
Blaze felt something cold slip down his spine. “What kind of posters?”
“Bounty posters,” the man said. “For you, the woman, and the Indian. Wilder’s name on every one of them.”
“Where?” Blaze asked quietly.
“Front of the sheriff’s office,” the man said, his voice trembling now. “Now go before someone sees you in here.”
Blaze nodded once. “Appreciate the warning.” He turned on his heel and walked back outside with his jaw clenched. Marisol and Graycloud followed.
“What’s he talking about?” Marisol asked.
“Let’s find out,” Blaze said.
They crossed the street toward the sheriff’s office. No one came out to stop them, but Blaze could feel the stares through the cracks of every door. When they reached the wall beside the porch, Blaze stopped dead.
There, nailed crookedly to the wood, were three wanted posters. Fresh ink was still curling from the corners.
The first one bore his face. The second, Marisol’s. The third, Graycloud’s.
The words beneath each were simple and brutal:
Wanted for murder, theft, and sedition.
By order of the hollow creek riders.
Reward: $2,000 gold each.
For a long moment, no one said a word. Only the wind moved, tugging at the corners of the paper.
“That son of a bitch,” Marisol whispered.
Graycloud tore one of the posters down. “He’s making you an outlaw in the eyes of every man west of the river.”
Blaze stared at his own likeness. The sketch wasn’t bad. The jaw was set, and the eyes were narrow.
“He’s faster than I thought,” he said.
“He’s not just after us,” Marisol replied, folding her arms across her chest. “He’s poisoning the well.”
“It means we can’t trust anyone,” Graycloud said.
“We never really could,” Blaze replied. He took the poster from Graycloud and rolled it tight. “But now we know for sure.”
A door creaked open behind them. An old woman stood there, clutching a broom like a weapon.
“You best be gone before dark,” she said. “Town’s got no mercy for your kind no more.”
Blaze turned. “Ma’am, we ain’t—”
“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” she snapped. “Wilder’s men came through here not long ago. Said you three burned a ranch near Copper Ridge. Said you killed a preacher. We don’t want your kind bringin’ death here.”
“We didn’t do that,” Marisol said sharply.
The woman’s eyes were hard. “Doesn’t matter. Folks believe what they’re told.”
