As the sky began to lighten in the east, Nala woke and joined him. "You should have woken me for my watch," she said. "Couldn't sleep anyway. " They sat in silence for a moment. Then Nala spoke again. "Jesse, what happened to you in the war?
What did you do that haunts you so much? " Jesse was quiet for a long time, then "Sand Creek. I was there. November 1864. I was 18 years old, barely knew which end of a rifle to point. My unit attacked a peaceful Cheyenne village.
Chief Black Kettle had a white flag and an American flag flying. We killed them anyway. Women, children, old men. We killed them all. " His voice was flat, emotionless. The only way he could tell it.
"I tried to stop it. Me and a few others. We stood between the villagers and our own men, but we were outnumbered, outranked. I saved maybe 10 people. The rest died.
Over 150 souls. " Nala said nothing for a long moment. Then, "Is that when you deserted? " "No, I stayed another 14 years. Told myself I could do more good from inside the army. Protect people, prevent another Sand Creek. " He laughed bitterly. "I was wrong.
The army didn't want protection. It wanted extermination. By the time I finally left, I'd done things almost as bad as what I tried to stop. Different uniform, same evil. " "Yet here you are," Nala said, "trying to save my family, trying to balance the scales. " "The scales don't balance. They never do.
But I have to try. " Nala placed her hand on his. The gesture was brief, almost formal, but Jesse felt the weight of it. Forgiveness, maybe. Or at least understanding. "My father would say, you have already balanced more than you know. " "Your father was a better man than me. " "My father saved one life in the desert.
You are saving six. Perhaps that is how scales work. Not in single acts, but in ripples spreading outward. " Before Jesse could respond, Swift Bird called out softly, "Riders! Coming from the northeast. " Jesse and Nala were on their feet instantly. Weapons drawn.
Jesse counted the dust cloud. Eight riders, maybe 10. Moving fast. "Crane," Jesse said. "He found us. " "Impossible.
I covered our trail. " "He has trackers. Apache trackers, probably from the children he raised. " Jesse turned to the others. "Wake up. We ride now. " They mounted in frantic haste. Kiyana could barely stay in her saddle.
Her fever had worsened overnight and the infection in her leg was spreading. She needed medicine they didn't have, rest they couldn't afford. But she set her jaw and gripped the saddle horn with white-knuckled determination. They rode hard to the east, toward the Gila River and the gathering place Swift Bird had mentioned. Behind them, Crane's riders closed the distance.
The pursuers had fresh horses. Jesse's group was riding animals already pushed to the edge of exhaustion. By midday, the gap had narrowed to 3 miles. By afternoon, 2 miles. They weren't going to make it to the gathering place.
They weren't going to make it anywhere. "Echo Valley," Jesse said, "we go there now. Make our stand. " Nala nodded. She turned her horse north, toward a break in the rocky ridge line that marked the valley's entrance. The others followed, Voe.
They reached Echo Valley with Crane's men only a mile behind. The valley was exactly as Nala had described. A narrow canyon, maybe 300 yards long, 80 feet from wall to wall at the entrance, but narrowing to barely 20 feet at the far end. Natural choke point. Perfect defensive ground, if they could hold it.
Jesse dismounted and immediately began assessing positions. The canyon walls were rough stone, climbable in places. Boulders littered the floor, providing cover. A dry stream bed ran down the center, evidence of flash floods during monsoon season. And at the far end, the canyon dead-ended at a sheer rock face.
"Nala, take Kiyana and Yazhi to the back. Find cover behind those boulders. Swift Bird, you're with me. We hold the entrance. " "What about me? " Kiyana asked. Despite her fever, her eyes were clear and determined.
Jesse looked at her. "Can you shoot? " "My sister taught me. I can shoot. " "Then you shoot, but from cover. You're no good to us dead. " They had maybe 10 minutes before Crane's riders arrived. Jesse and Swift Bird used the time to prepare.
They stacked rocks across the narrowest part of the entrance, creating a low wall. They placed weapons within easy reach. Jesse counted his ammunition. 12 rounds in the Winchester, six in his Colt. Swift Bird had 14 rounds in his rifle.
32 bullets against at least eight men, maybe more if Crane had called in reinforcements. The math was bad. Nala appeared beside Jesse, her bow strung, six arrows in her quiver. "I will take the high ground. East wall.
I can cover the entrance from there. " "It's too exposed. " "It's the best position, and I am the best shot. " She met his eyes. "Do not argue. We do not have time. " She was right. Jesse nodded. Nala scaled the east wall with the ease of someone who'd climbed since childhood.
She found a ledge 40 feet up, just below the rim, where she could shoot down at anyone coming through the entrance. Jesse returned to his position behind the rock wall. Swift Bird crouched beside him, breathing hard, fear and determination warring on his young face. "Have you killed before? " Jesse asked. "Only animals, for food. " "Men aren't much different.
You aim center mass. You squeeze the trigger. You don't think about it until after. " Jesse paused. "And Swift Bird? " "If I fall, you run. Get Nala and the sisters out of here.
Don't try to be a hero. " "What if I want to be a hero? " Jesse almost smiled. "Then you're a fool, but at least you're a brave fool. " The riders appeared at the canyon entrance. There were 11 of them, more than Jesse had hoped, fewer than he'd feared. Silas Crane rode at their head on a massive roan gelding. Even from a distance, Jesse could see the cold fury on the man's face.