When she saw them, not on the main trail, but coming over the northern ridge, the hard way, the way they would not be expected. Four riders, one in a black coat, Clay Hackett, Jeb Smith the Drifter, and Reverend Pike. Her heart did not hammer. It went cold and still. One rifle shot.
She raised the rifle, aimed at the sky, and fired. The sound cracked across the valley. Then she did as he said. She dropped the rifle, grabbed the pistol he had left for her, and ran. She did not run for the cabin.
She ran for the trees, but she was not fast enough. They had heard the shot. They spurred their horses crashing through the brush and saw her. "There she is!" Hackett roared, his voice thick with hate.
"Grab the!" Tyen ran barefoot, her feet slipping on the pine needles, but the horses were fast. The drifter cut her off, his horse rearing as he blocked her path. She spun, but Hackett was on her. He launched himself from the saddle, tackling her. his heavy body driving the air from her lungs.
She was plunged back into the nightmare, the smell of unwashed wool, of whiskey, the bruising grip, the coldness. She screamed, a raw animal sound, and fought, her nails raking for his eyes. "Hold still, you heathen!" he snarled, trying to pin her wrists. Pike reined in his horse, his face a mask of pale fury. "Brother Hackett, do not harm her.
She is a ward of the church. Bind her." She needs to be taught a lesson first. Preacher, Hackett grunted, his face close to hers. He was enjoying this.
She could feel the brutal anticipation in him. Jeb Smith had a rope. Just get her tied. We'll take her back to town and let the law handle read. Hackett shifted his weight, fumbling for her hands, his grip loosened on one of her arms. in the kitchen.
She had been slicing dried apples with her small carving knife. She had tucked it into the waistband of her skirt when she ran. Her hand free for a second, found the handle. She did not think. She reacted.
She pulled the knife and slashed upward, all her strength and terror behind it. Hackett screamed. It was a high, thin sound. He recoiled, clutching his face. Blood poured through his fingers.
The knife had laid his cheek open from the corner of his mouth to his ear. In that moment of shock, Tyen scrambled free. She was on her feet and gone, a deer vanishing into the thick scrub oak. "Get her!" Pike shrieked, his composure shattering.
Don't let her escape. Jeb and the Drifter charged after her, but the terrain was too thick for horses. They dismounted and plunged into the brush. Hackett was on the ground howling and cursing, his bloodstaining the dry earth. Daniel heard the shot.