You stayed you. And that is the man I need. I do not need a dead hero. I need a living husband. Eli shuddered, the tension draining out of him, leaving him hollow.
He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck. Careful of the bruise. I wanted to, he whispered. God, Clara, I wanted the blood. I know, she soothed, stroking his hair.
I know, but you stayed. They stayed like that for a long time, the shadows lengthening across the floor. The violence of the afternoon faded, replaced by a desperate, aching need for connection. They moved to the bed, not letting go of each other. The intimacy that followed was not about pleasure.
It was about affirmation. It was a frantic, tender reclaiming of life in the face of death. They clung to each other, skin against skin, whispering reassurances in the dark. I am here. You are here.
We are alive. When the room went quiet again, the plan formed in the darkness. We cannot stay, Eli said into the silence. The sheriff is gone. The town is against us.
If we stay the next time, they won't stop at a warning. We go to Cheyenne, Clara said. We take the evidence to Judge Atherton. It is a 4-day ride, Eli said. Through open country, Pike controls the roads.
We will go cross country, Clara said. Through the foothills. It is rougher, but they won't expect it. We leave tomorrow night, Eli decided under the new moon. But Pike was not waiting for tomorrow.
Eli fell into a restless sleep, but Clara lay awake, the pain in her arm, a sharp reminder of the stakes. She watched the window. She saw the light before she smelled the smoke. It was a flickering orange glow reflecting off the low clouds in the south. Eli, Clara screamed, shaking him awake.
They ran to the window. The stackyard, where Eli had stored the winter hay. The only food for the cattle to survive the coming snows was an inferno. The fire was massive, fueled by the dry grass and the oil that must have been poured over it. The flames leaped 30 ft into the air, casting a hellish light over the ranch.
Eli stood at the window, his hand pressed against the glass. "The hay! " he whispered. "It's gone. Without the hay, the herd would starve before January. The bank would foreclose on the loan.
The ranch was effectively dead. The fire roared in the distance, a funeral pyre for their hopes. Pike hadn't just sent a warning this time. He had started the countdown. Eli turned from the window.