The remaining bandits pulled up short, realizing they'd walked into a kill box. For a moment, everything hung in balance. Then the bandits broke, scattering back toward the hills, leaving their dead behind. Cole lowered his rifle, breathing hard. His shoulder throbbed where the bullet had grazed him, warm blood soaking into his shirt.
Around him, the others were checking themselves for injuries, reloading weapons, trying to process what had just happened. "Everyone alive?" Cole called out. "Alive," Kaya confirmed. "Same," Lyra said, her voice shaking. "I'm fine," Sani added.
Hoskins climbed down from his wagon, face pale. "That was too damn close." "They'll be back," Cole said. "We need to move. Now."
They didn't stop until nightfall, pushing the horses and wagons hard, putting as much distance between themselves and the ambush site as possible. When they finally made camp, everyone was too exhausted to do more than collapse around the fire. Kaya came over to where Cole sat, examining his shoulder. "Let me see," she said. "It's fine."
"Let me see anyway." Cole sighed and pulled his shirt aside. The wound was shallow, more of a burn than anything, but it had bled enough to stain the fabric dark. Kaya pulled out a canteen and a strip of cloth, cleaning the wound with efficient, practiced movements. "You've done this before," Cole observed.
"More times than I'd like to remember." She wrapped the cloth around his shoulder, tying it tight enough to make him wince. When she finished, she sat back, studying his face. "You saved us again," she said. "I saved the cargo."
"You three just happened to be nearby." "You're a terrible liar." Cole didn't answer. He stared into the fire, watching flames dance and twist, and felt the weight of the day settling over him like a heavy blanket. "Why'd you do it?" Kaya asked.
"In the canyon, I mean. You could have ridden away." "Already told you. Don't know." "I think you do. I think you just don't want to say it."
Cole looked at her, and for a moment, he considered telling the truth. That he'd helped them because he'd seen too much cruelty and needed to believe he could still do something that mattered. That he'd stepped in front of those guns because walking away would have meant becoming the kind of man he'd spent his whole life trying not to be. But the words stuck in his throat, and instead, he just shook his head. "Get some rest," he said.
"We've still got two days to Canyon Bend." Kaya stood, brushed off her pants, and walked back to where Lyra and Sani were preparing their bedrolls. Cole watched her go, then turned his attention back to the fire. He was starting to realize something he didn't like. Something that scared him more than bandits or bullets or any of the hundred other ways the frontier could kill a man.
He was starting to care. They reached Canyon Bend without further incident, delivered the cargo, and collected their pay from Hoskins, who shook each of their hands and told them they'd earned every cent. The women split the money evenly with Cole, despite his protests, and for the first time in years, Cole had enough coin in his pocket to feel something approaching secure. They spent a week in Canyon Bend, resting, resupplying, and trying to decide what came next.
The town was quiet, nestled in a wide valley surrounded by red rock formations that glowed like fire at sunset. It was the kind of place where a person could disappear for a while, and Cole found himself thinking maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. On their last night in town, the four of them sat in a small cantina near the edge of the valley, sharing a bottle of whiskey that tasted like it had been strained through old boots. "So, what now?" Lyra asked, pouring herself another glass. "Don't know," Cole admitted.
"Could head back to Coldwater Springs. Hoskins said he'd have more work." "Or we could go somewhere else," Kaya said. "Somewhere new?" "Like where?"
"Anywhere. The frontier's big. There's always work if you know where to look." Sani spoke up, her voice thoughtful. "What do you want, Cole?"