Garrick's expression hardened as Sihaya told her story again. When she finished, he stood there quiet for a long moment, studying us both. "Holt's been getting bolder lately," he said at last. "Word is, he's planning something big. One last score before he rides south and lives like a king."
"What kind of score?" I asked. "No one knows for sure," Garrick said. "But there's talk of a caravan passing through next week. Families heading west to California, hauling everything they own." Sihaya and I exchanged a glance.
A caravan full of families. That was exactly the kind of target Varick Holt preyed on. Vulnerable people carrying everything with no real way to defend themselves. "We have to warn them," Sihaya said. "We stop him," I corrected.
Garrick looked between us, then gave a slow nod. "Then you'd better come inside," he said. "Let's sit down and figure out how the hell we're going to do it." Inside Garrick's house, the four of us gathered around a heavy wooden table while Merrell set out coffee and fresh bread. Maps were spread across the surface, marked with the main routes heading west.
"The Ash Trail caravan will pass through the canyon in 6 days," Garrick said, pointing to a narrow stretch on the map. "47 wagons, maybe 200 souls. Mostly families carrying everything they've got." "A perfect target for Varick Holt," I muttered. "That pass is ideal for an ambush," Sihaya added, studying the terrain.
"One way in, one way out. High walls on both sides. If Holt places his men right, that caravan won't stand a chance," Sihaya said. Garrick Vane gave a slow nod. "That's exactly what worries me.
But here's the problem. The pass is the only way through those mountains. Every other trail's too rough for loaded wagons. We can't reroute them." "Then we make damn sure Holt isn't there waiting," I said.
Merrell Voss, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. "How many men does he have?" "Last I heard, around 25." Garrick replied. "All killers. Not odds any sane man would take on."
I glanced at Sihaya. The fire in her dark eyes told me she was thinking the same thing I was. Sensible odds had never stopped either of us from doing what was right. "What if we turn some of Holt's own men against him?" Sihaya said suddenly. Garrick raised an eyebrow.
"And how exactly would you pull that off?" "My brother told me things before he died." She said. "Holt rules through fear. But he also pays well. If we can convince a few of his men they'd earn more by betraying him than staying loyal."
It was dangerous. Real dangerous. But it made sense. Outlaws weren't known for loyalty when there was better money on the table. "That means getting close to his operation." I said.
"Close enough to talk to his men without getting shot on sight." "I know where his main camp is." Sihaya said quietly. "And I know someone who can help us." All eyes turned to her. "There's a man named Rook Vatcher." She continued.
"He used to ride with Holt. Left about 6 months ago. Said he was done with all the killing. Now he's hiding out in a cabin about 20 miles from here trying to live straight." "You think he'd help us?" Garrick asked.
"I think he'd help me." Sihaya said. "He was close to my brother. He owes him." The plan we built over the next 2 hours was either brilliant or suicidal. Maybe both.
Rook Vatcher would be our way in. Our only way in. But first, we had to convince him to walk away from the quiet life he'd carved out for himself. "I'll ride out to him tomorrow." I said. "See if I can bring him in."
"We'll go." Sihaya corrected. "Rook knew my brother better than anyone. If we're going to convince him, I need to be there." Garrick frowned. "That's a lot of risk for both of you."
"If Holt's got men watching him." I said. "We'll deal with them." And I meant it. Something had changed in me since I met Sihaya. The cold, calculating gunman I used to be was giving way to something else.
Something warmer. But far more dangerous. A man with something to protect. As the night wore on and we sharpened the details of the plan, I couldn't help but notice how Sihaya filled the room. Not just because of her height.
But because of the quiet strength she carried. Garrick and Merrell respected her. And I understood why. It wasn't just that she was beautiful. She was commanding.
"Dax." She said later as we were getting ready to turn in. "Can I speak with you?" "Alone?" We stepped out onto the porch. The night air was cool, filled with the sound of crickets.
Above us the stars burned bright against a velvet sky. "You sure about this?" She asked. "Helping me go after Holt. You could walk away. Start fresh somewhere else."
I turned to her. Once again struck by how she could meet my eyes without ever needing to look up. In the moonlight, she looked like something out of legend. Beautiful. Fierce.
Impossible to turn away from. "I'm not going anywhere." I said. "Not without you." "Dax." "We've only known each other a day."
"I know." I cut in gently. "It's crazy. But I've spent most of my life running from things. And I'm tired of it."
I took a slow breath. For the first time, I found something worth staying for. She stepped closer. Close enough that I could see the starlight reflected in her dark eyes. "And what is that?" She asked.
"You." I answered. Plain and simple. She kissed me then. Soft at first. Unsure.
Then deeper as I pulled her close. She was strong. Warm. And felt like she belonged right there in my arms. And in that moment, I knew one thing for certain.
No matter what waited for us ahead. No matter what we faced with Varick Holt. I wasn't going to let anything happen to her. "I've never felt this way about anyone." She whispered against my lips. "Neither have I." I said.
"And I'm not about to lose it now." The ride to Rook Vatcher's cabin took us through rough country. The kind that kept most folks away and gave a man a hundred places to disappear if he needed to. Exactly the kind of ground someone like him would choose to vanish into. "There." Sihaya said.
Pointing toward a thin trail of smoke rising behind a stand of pines. "That's got to be his place." We moved in. Slow. Careful.
A man living like that didn't take kindly to surprises. Just like we expected. We hadn't closed half the distance when a voice cut through the trees. "That's far enough." "State your business."
"Sihaya." She called back. Steady and clear. "Sister of Cairo." There was a long pause. Then the sound of boots moving through brush.
The man who stepped out looked about my age. Lean. Sharp-eyed. The kind who stayed alive by thinking fast and shooting faster. When he saw her, something in his face shifted.
Recognition. And something close to regret. "Damn, Sihaya." He said quietly. "I heard about Cairo. Wish I'd been there."
"You couldn't have stopped it." She replied. "But you can help make sure it doesn't happen again." His eyes slid to me. Measuring. "And who's your friend?"
"Dax Calder." I said. Stepping down from the saddle. Keeping my hands where he could see them. Well clear of my guns. His eyes narrowed just a touch.