It was the last thing Margaret said. She stared at the men in horror, realizing that she was now flying through the air. The car that struck her was long gone before she ever hit the concrete road.
“Margaret! Margaret!” called Hayes, kneeling beside her.
“Others,” she said in a strained voice. “Oth-others…” Saint looked at Hayes, then turned to the crowd around them.
“Did anyone get a license plate number?” he asked.
“There wasn’t one,” said a young woman. “The car didn’t have plates.” Saint stared at Hayes.
“Of course it didn’t.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chief, Patrick, Major and Sebastian sat on the top rail of the fence, staring at the sky.
The sun began its descent slowly over the farmlands of Nebraska, unhurried and deliberate, as if it understood the vastness of the land beneath it. The horizon stretched so wide it felt almost curved, a soft meeting place between earth and sky.
There were no mountains to interrupt the view, no city towers to fracture the light—only open fields and the long, steady breath of evening settling in.
At first, the sky held its daytime blue, but it thinned and lightened as the sun lowered. Pale gold wings spread outward from the glowing disk, washing over the clouds like warm paint brushed across a canvas.
Wisps of white became tinted peach, then blush, then faint lavender. The colors didn’t arrive all at once; they layered themselves gently, as if the sky was remembering how to change.
The sun itself grew less blinding, turning from white-hot brilliance into a deep, molten orange. Its edges softened as it neared the fields, blurring slightly in the warm air.
Light poured across the farmland at a low angle, catching on fence posts, tractor tracks, and the subtle ridges in the soil, turning every small detail into something briefly radiant.
A breeze moved through the land, light but persistent, carrying with it the clean scent of earth and growing things. It slipped across the fields without obstruction, brushing against their sleeves and stirring loose strands of hair. The air cools almost imperceptibly, a quiet signal that day is giving way to evening, even though the sun still lingers above the horizon.
The crops responded immediately to the wind, bending and swaying in unison. Rows of corn rippled like water, their leaves whispering softly as they brushed against one another. Soybeans shivered in smaller, quicker motions, a textured green surface that seemed to breathe.
The movement was constant but never chaotic, guided by the steady rhythm of the breeze.
As the sun continued to lower further, the colors deepen. Gold turns to amber, amber to rust, and then to a rich, burnished red. Shadows stretch long across the fields, reaching eastward like slow-moving fingers. Furrows in the soil darken, emphasizing the geometry of planting and the patient order imposed on the land.
Clouds near the horizon thickened in color, their undersides glowing crimson and copper while their tops faded into dusky purple. The sky above them cooled into deeper blues, creating a layered effect that felt immense and endless. The contrast between warm and cool tones sharpens, making the sunset feel both intimate and grand at the same time.
The breeze carried sound as well as scent—the rustle of crops, the distant call of a bird settling in for the night, the faint hum of insects beginning their evening chorus. These sounds felt amplified by the openness, unobstructed by walls or traffic, allowed to drift freely across the land just as the wind does.
When the sun finally touched the horizon, it seemed to hesitate, flattening slightly as it met the vast plain. It’s light spilled outward one last time, setting the fields aglow in muted reds and bronzes.
For a brief moment, everything appeared suspended, as though the land itself was holding its breath.
Then, slowly, the sun slipped away. The colors soften and fade, leaving behind a sky brushed with violet and gray. The fields darken, their motion becoming harder to see but no less present. Evening settled fully over the Nebraska farmland, quiet and expansive, leaving behind a sense of calm that lingers long after the last light is gone.
Sebastian stared at his friends as they all gave a quick nod, knowing what a special moment this peaceful, quiet time had been.
“Brothers, I’ve seen a lot of beautiful sunsets in my day but I’ll remember that one forever.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Just why were you meeting with Margaret?” asked the federal agent.
“We just had some questions about drilling and what you need to do in order to drill for oil or gas,” said Saint.
“And are you planning to drill somewhere?” asked the agent. He didn’t even look them in the eyes. Instead, he turned and scanned the crowd as if looking for someone.
Saint looked at Hayes and they both looked at the crowds as well, expecting to find a gunman.
