“How good a rider are you?”
Alaya looked offended.
“Better than you.”
“Good.”
He reached for his hat.
“Because if this storm catches us before the river, we'll need to ride like you mean that.”
They left Broken Mesa Ranch before nine.
Nathan rode a tall bay gelding named Jasper.
Alaya rode a gray mare Thomas reluctantly agreed to lend them after Nathan promised to replace the animal if it did not return.
“You just promised away three months' pay,” Thomas complained.
“Then I suggest we bring her back.”
Thomas grabbed Nathan's arm before he mounted.
“This isn't your fight.”
Nathan looked at him.
“Could become everyone's fight.”
“You don't know whether she's telling the truth.”
“No.”
Thomas lowered his voice.
“Then why go?”
Nathan touched the medallion inside his coat.
“Because I can find out while she's alive.”
Thomas looked toward Alaya.
“She brings trouble here, I won't forgive you.”
Nathan nodded.
“Fair.”
They rode east.
For two hours the trail remained quiet.
The desert spread around them in shades of gold, red and faded green. Saguaros stood like sentries across distant flats. Hawks circled in the warm currents above them.
Alaya said little.
Nathan eventually grew tired of silence.
“How did you learn English?”
“Mission school.”
“You like it?”
“English?”
“The school.”
“No.”
“Straight answer.”
“They tried to give me another name.”
Nathan glanced at her.
“What name?”
“Anna.”
“Why?”
“They said Alaya was difficult.”
Nathan considered this.
“Anna isn't easier.”
Alaya looked at him.
He smiled.
She almost did.
“My mother removed me after six months.”
“Good.”
“They were angry.”
“Better.”
Alaya studied him.
“You are not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“A man like your father.”
Nathan looked ahead.
“You knew him?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know what he was like?”
“My father spoke of him.”
“People become better after they die.”
Alaya frowned.
“Why?”
“They stop making new mistakes.”
That earned a small laugh.
By noon, Nathan noticed the first sign they were being followed.
Tracks.
Three horses.
Maybe four.
Fresh enough that the edges had not yet collapsed in the dry dust.
He said nothing.
A mile later, he saw movement on a ridge behind them.
Alaya saw it too.
“How many?”
“At least three.”
“Mercer's men?”
“Maybe.”
“Apache?”
“Could be.”
“You are very helpful.”
“I try.”
Nathan guided Jasper toward a rocky wash.
“We'll leave the main trail.”
“That makes the river harder to reach.”
“Being shot makes everything harder.”
They descended into the wash.
The ground narrowed between sandstone walls.
Nathan studied every opening.
Alaya watched him.
“You always expect an ambush?”
“Only when I'm being followed.”
“What do you do the rest of the time?”
“Expect bad weather.”
As if insulted by the joke, thunder rolled again.
The storm was closer.
They continued.
An hour later, a rifle cracked behind them.
Stone splintered near Nathan's horse.
“Ride!”
They kicked forward.
A second shot followed.
Then another.
Alaya leaned low over the gray mare.
Nathan looked back.
Four riders appeared at the edge of the wash.
White men.
Dust coats.
Rifles.
No uniform.
Mercer's men, most likely.
Nathan drew his revolver but did not fire.
The wash split ahead.
“Left!” he shouted.
Alaya went right.
Nathan cursed and followed.
The right channel narrowed into a canyon.
“Why didn't you listen?”
“You said left.”
“Yes!”
“So they heard you.”
Nathan looked back.
The riders had taken the left fork.
He stared at Alaya.
She smiled slightly.
“Better than you.”
“Don't become proud yet.”
They slowed.
For perhaps ten minutes, the trick worked.
Then voices echoed behind them.
Their pursuers had realized the deception.
Nathan found a steep trail leading out of the canyon.
They climbed.
By the time they reached the top, the western sky had become almost black.
Rain hung beneath the clouds like curtains.
Nathan's expression hardened.
“We need to reach Red Willow before that.”
“How far?”
“Eight miles.”
They pushed the horses.
The first rain reached them after three.
Huge drops darkened Nathan's coat.
Wind bent the desert grass.
Lightning flashed over the mountains.
Alaya's mare became nervous.
Nathan rode closer.
“Keep her head toward Jasper.”
“I know how to ride.”
“I didn't say you didn't.”
“You thought it.”
“I think many things.”
“Most of them irritating?”
“Yes.”
The rain intensified.
Within minutes, dry gullies became moving streams.
The trail vanished.
Thunder frightened both horses.
Nathan watched the land carefully.
Flash floods killed people faster than gunmen.
They crossed one wash moments before muddy water surged through it.
Alaya looked back.
“That was dry.”
“Desert remembers every river.”
She looked at him.
“My grandmother says something like that.”
“Your grandmother sounds intelligent.”
“She would not like you.”
“Then she's very intelligent.”
Despite the storm, Alaya laughed.
It was the first time Nathan heard her laugh without restraint.
Then a rifle shot tore through the rain.
Her mare jerked.
Alaya cried out.
The horse collapsed.
Nathan turned sharply.
“Alaya!”
She rolled free just before the mare struck the ground.
Nathan dismounted.
A bullet had hit the horse high in the shoulder.
The animal was alive but could not stand.
Nathan pulled Alaya behind a rock.
“Hit?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yes!”
Another bullet struck stone.
Their pursuers had found them.
Nathan fired twice toward the ridge.
Not to kill.
To force heads down.
“We can't stay.”
“My horse.”
Nathan looked toward the wounded mare.
He hated what came next.
Alaya understood.
“No.”
“She can't walk.”
“No.”
Another shot.
Nathan grabbed Alaya's shoulders.
“Listen.”
Her face was wet with rain and tears.
“We either leave now or Mercer gets those papers.”
Alaya looked at the mare.
Then slowly nodded.
Nathan ended the animal's suffering with one shot.
Alaya flinched.
There was no time to grieve.
Nathan climbed onto Jasper.
He extended his hand.
“Up.”
She mounted behind him.
They rode into the storm.
For another hour Jasper carried them through mud and rising water.
By late afternoon Nathan saw cottonwoods ahead.
Red Willow River.
Relief lasted only seconds.
The river had swollen far beyond its banks.
Brown water surged between the trees, carrying branches, brush and pieces of fencing.
And the ferry platform was gone.
Alaya stared.
“We cannot cross that.”
Nathan dismounted.
“We don't have a choice.”
Behind them, distant riders emerged through the rain.
Four.
Perhaps five now.
Alaya saw them.
“What do we do?”
Nathan studied the river.
Half a mile upstream, the channel widened.
Wider often meant shallower.
Sometimes.
He pointed.
“Upstream.”
They rode north.
The pursuers were getting closer.
At the wider crossing, Nathan dismounted again.
He walked into the river.
The current immediately pushed against his knees.
He went farther.
Waist.
Then chest.
He backed out.
“Horse can make it.”
Alaya looked at the racing water.
“You are certain?”
“No.”
“That is not comforting.”
“Would you prefer a lie?”
“No.”
“Good.”
They mounted.
Jasper entered the water.
Ten feet.
Twenty.
The current rose.
Nathan felt the horse lose contact with the bottom.
“Hold tight!”
Jasper began swimming.
Alaya's arms locked around Nathan.
A tree branch slammed against the horse's side.
Jasper turned.
Nathan fought the reins.
The current carried them downstream.
Another branch approached.
Nathan shouted.
Jasper panicked.
Alaya lost her grip.
She fell.
Nathan heard her disappear into the water.
“Alaya!”
He jumped.
The river swallowed him.
Cold brown water rolled him under.
He surfaced twenty feet downstream.
Alaya appeared briefly.
Then vanished again.
Nathan swam.
The current carried them toward fallen trees near the bank.
He caught her blanket.
It slipped free.
He grabbed her wrist.
Alaya coughed.
Nathan wrapped one arm around her.
“Don't fight me!”
“I am trying not to drown!”
“Do that too!”
He kicked toward the eastern bank.
The river dragged them.
His boots became anchors.
His arms burned.
At last his knee struck gravel.
Nathan stood.
The current nearly knocked him down again.
Alaya could barely walk.
He lifted her into his arms.
Step by step, he carried her through waist-deep water.
Then knee-deep.
Then mud.
He collapsed beside the cottonwoods with Alaya still against his chest.
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Alaya coughed river water onto his coat.
Nathan laughed weakly.
She looked furious.
“What?”
“I think you ruined my coat.”
She punched him in the shoulder.
He laughed again.
Then she began laughing too.
Exhausted.
Shivering.
Alive.
Nathan looked across the river.
Their pursuers had reached the opposite bank.
They would need to find another crossing.
“We bought time.”
Alaya followed his gaze.
Then her expression changed.
Nathan turned.
A rider stood among the trees.
Then another.
And another.
Apache riders.
They appeared silently along the ridge.
Dozens.
Nathan rose slowly.
More riders emerged.
Fifty.
A hundred.
Farther along the hill, the line continued.