And that's when everything went to hell. An explosion, loud from the north side of the ranch. Then gunfire, horses screaming. Nala's distraction, but it was wrong, wrong timing. It was supposed to be 15 minutes from now, after they were clear of the camp.
The ranch erupted. Men poured from the bunkhouse, half-dressed, grabbing weapons. Someone rang a bell, loud and frantic. Flames rose from the hay pile, lighting the night orange and red. Jesse and Marcus were 40 ft from the cellar when three ranch hands ran past, heading for the prisoner shed.
They saw the empty building, up he saw long, saw Jesse and Marcus with the two women. Prisoners escaped! They're here! The alarm bell changed rhythm. Now everyone knew.
Jesse shoved Yazi toward Marcus. Run! Get to the cellar. I'll cover you. He turned and brought up his Winchester.
The three ranch hands were raising their rifles. Jesse fired first. Three shots, 3 seconds. The first man went down with a bullet through his chest. The second took one to the leg and collapsed screaming.
The third dove for cover. More men coming, at least eight, maybe 10. This wasn't a rescue anymore. This was a fight. Jesse fired again and again, laying down covering fire.
Marcus disappeared into the cellar with both sisters. Good. Get them out. That's all that mattered. A bullet cracked past Jesse's head, close enough to feel.
He dove behind a water trough, returned fire came from everywhere, bullets punching holes in the wood, water leaking out in streams. Then Nala appeared. She came riding in on a huge black horse, Crane's own stallion from the look of it, firing arrows while the horse galloped. Her aim was impossible, perfect, deadly. Two men went down before they even saw her coming.
"Jesse! " she screamed. "This way! " Jesse ran. Bullets chased him, kicking up dirt at his heels. Nala pulled alongside, reached down. Jesse grabbed her arm and swung up behind her in one motion.
The black horse didn't even slow. They were racing for the canyon entrance when Silas Crane stepped out of the ranch house. Jesse had never seen the man before, but he knew him instantly. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a long black coat despite the summer heat. He held a shotgun like it was part of his arm.
His face was weathered, hard, the face of a man who'd killed many times and slept well afterward. "You think you can steal my property? " Crane's voice carried clearly over the chaos. "I'll kill every one of you! " He raised the shotgun and fired. The buckshot spread caught Marcus in the back. Jesse heard the young man scream, saw him stumble and fall.
Kiona and Yazzie went down with him, tangled in his arms. Jesse tried to turn the horse, but Nahala grabbed his hands. "No! Leave him! We go now! " "He's dying! " "We're all dying if we stay! " Jesse saw Marcus on the ground, saw the blood spreading across his back, saw Kiona trying to crawl to him, saw Yazzie crying, saw Crane reloading the shotgun.
Every instinct screamed at Jesse to go back, but Nahala was right. If they stayed, they all died. Jesse made the choice, the hardest choice. He kicked the black horse forward. They scooped up Yazzie in one motion, but Kiona was too far, and Marcus was going limp.
Jesse wheeled the horse and charged back anyway. Nahala screamed something in Apache, but Jesse ignored her. He rode straight at Crane, drawing his Colt as he came. Crane fired. Buckshot sprayed.
Three pellets caught Jesse in his right side, burning lines of fire, but he didn't fall. He fired back, three shots forcing Crane to dive for cover. In that moment, Jesse reached Marcus. "Can you ride? " Marcus coughed up blood. "I don't think so. " Jesse grabbed him anyway, hauled him up with strength born of pure desperate will.
His heart screamed in protest, but he didn't care. He got Marcus across the saddle, got Kiona up behind, wrapped his own arm around them both to keep them from falling. Nahala appeared with two more stolen horses, Yazzie on one, Swiftbird on the other. The Apache boy had broken free of his bonds and chosen a side. They rode hard for the canyon entrance.
Behind them, Crane's voice echoed like a curse. "I'll find you! You can't hide! I'll kill every one of you! " 15 men on horses poured out of Devil's Rim in pursuit. Gunfire lit up the night.
Bullets zipped pacing out, too many, too close. One caught Jesse's horse in the haunch. The animal screamed, but kept running. They made it to the canyon mouth, made it into the open desert. Behind them, the pursuit continued, but the horses were fresher, faster.
They pulled ahead. Jesse looked back once, saw Devil's Rim burning, saw Crane's silhouette against the flames, saw the man raise his fist in rage. Then they were swallowed by darkness and distance. Bah. The fire had burned down to coals when Ethan paused in his telling.
Sarah sat unmoving, barely breathing, her eyes locked on his face. "Marcus? " she whispered. "Did he die? " Ethan reached for his coffee, then took a slow sip. His hands, steady through the whole story, shook slightly now. The weight of memory.
"That's the question, isn't it? " he said softly. "And that's where the story gets harder, because my father made a choice that night, a choice that would haunt him for the rest of his life. " He looked at Sarah. "Do you want me to continue? It gets darker from here. " "Yes," Sarah said immediately. "I need to know how it ends. " "It doesn't end," Ethan said, "not really.
These kinds of stories, they don't have endings, just places where we stop telling them. " He stood, added another log to the fire. Sparks swirled up the chimney like fireflies. Outside, the wind had died. Snow was falling now, silent and heavy. "All right," Ethan said, settling back into his chair.