Isaiah grunted. “That is either comforting or deeply concerning.”
On the gallows, Rusk signaled Nathan toward the lever. Nathan looked at Abigail. She closed her eyes, not because she had surrendered but because she refused to let Caleb Rusk be the last thing she saw.
Mateo placed his finger against the trigger.
The rope moved in the wind.
He breathed once.
Twice.
Then the trapdoor dropped.
The rifle cracked across Red Hollow.
The bullet sliced through the rope less than a foot above Abigail’s head. She fell through the opening, struck the lower boards, and rolled hard onto one shoulder as the severed noose whipped past her face. For one suspended second, nobody understood what had happened.
Then the town exploded.
Women screamed and ran toward storefronts. Horses reared against hitching posts, wagons rocked as men dove behind them, and someone fired blindly toward the northern ridge. Sheriff Rusk grabbed the shotgun leaning against the gallows railing.
Mateo fired again.
The shotgun flew from Rusk’s hands.
Wood splintered beside his fingers, and the weapon spun across the platform before falling into the street. Rusk stumbled backward, staring toward the ridge with shock replacing authority.
Then Mateo mounted Estrella.
The bay mare flew down the slope.
Dust streamed behind her as Mateo rode directly toward town, Winchester held low against one thigh. Isaiah remained on the ridge and fired at anything that threatened to become brave enough to aim.
A shot knocked Gideon Strake’s hat into the dirt. Another shattered a wagon lantern beside two of Rusk’s deputies. Isaiah deliberately missed every man by inches, which somehow frightened them more than wild shooting would have.
“Take cover!” someone yelled.
Nobody needed convincing.
Abigail crawled from beneath the gallows platform. Her throat burned where the rope had tightened for less than a second, and one ankle throbbed from the fall. Nathan Webb stood above her staring at the broken rope.
Rusk shouted at him. “Get her!”
Nathan did not move.
“I said get her!”
Abigail looked at the young deputy.
Nathan looked back.
Then he stepped aside.
Mateo reached the gallows at full speed. He leaned from the saddle and shouted Abigail’s name. She ran toward him as gunfire cracked from the rooftops.
A bullet struck the ground behind her. Another passed through the loose fabric near her elbow. Mateo caught Abigail around the waist and pulled her across the saddle in front of him.
For half a heartbeat, neither spoke.
She grabbed his vest.
“You came.”
He looked down at her as Estrella spun toward the southern road. “You sound surprised.”
“I was hoping you were smarter.”
“Terrible day to start.”
Even with the rope still around her neck, Abigail laughed.
It sounded almost like a sob.
Sheriff Rusk drew a revolver from beneath his coat and aimed at Mateo’s back. Nathan saw the movement and finally made the choice he had avoided all morning. He shoved the sheriff’s gun arm toward the sky.
The shot struck the courthouse sign.
Rusk turned on him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Nathan backed away.
“No more.”
“You’re finished.”
“Maybe.”
Nathan looked toward Abigail riding away.
“But she isn’t.”
Mateo never saw it.
He and Abigail were already moving down Main Street.
Gideon Strake rode from beside the saloon with two ranch hands, trying to block the southern road. One man raised a rifle. Isaiah’s next shot knocked the weapon out of his hands.
Strake drew his pistol.
Abigail reached for the revolver tucked beneath Mateo’s coat.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping.”
“You know how to use that?”
“My father taught school in Arizona.”
Mateo looked confused.
“What does that have to do with guns?”