Ethan checked his rifle. Six rounds. He had two more rifles slung across his back, each loaded. Aela carried one rifle and a revolver. It would have to be enough.
Ethan met her eyes. She nodded, her face set and grim. Then he stepped around the corner and opened fire. The first shot dropped a man on the far left. The second hit another in the leg, sending him sprawling.
The third went wide, but it didn't matter. The militia was already scattering, diving for cover, shouting in confusion. Ethan moved fast, dropping the empty rifle and pulling up the second one. He fired three more shots in quick succession, forcing the militia to stay down, keeping them pinned. Aela appeared on the right, her rifle barking sharp and precise.
She hit a man trying to flank them, then another scrambling for his horse. But the militia was recovering fast. Return fire erupted, bullets slamming into the barn, splintering wood, kicking up dirt. Ethan ducked behind a water trough as a round whined past his head. There's!
Someone shouted. Behind the barn! Vance's voice cut through the chaos, cold and clear. Converge on the barn. Kill them both.
The militia surged forward, a dozen men advancing in a ragged line. Ethan fired twice more, but there were too many. He pulled back, yanking Aela with him. The horses, he said. We need the horses.
They sprinted toward the corral, where Smoke and two other horses were tied. Bullets chased them, cracking through the air. One round grazed Ethan's arm, a hot line of pain that he ignored. He reached the corral, vaulted the fence, and cut Smoke's tether with his knife. Aela was already on one of the other horses, a big roan that danced nervously under her.
Ethan swung onto Smoke's back, no saddle, just raw muscle and desperation. Ride! He shouted. They exploded out of the corral, the horses stretching into a full gallop. The militia fired after them, but the range was growing, the shots falling short.
Ethan leaned low over Smoke's neck, urging her faster, the wind tearing at his face. Behind them, Vance's voice roared in fury. After them! Don't let them escape! But the militia's horses were scattered, panicked by the explosions and gunfire.
By the time they mounted up, Ethan and Aela were already vanishing into the scrub, the desert swallowing them whole. They rode hard for an hour, pushing the horses until foam flecked their necks. When Ethan finally slowed, they were deep in the canyon country, surrounded by red rock walls and twisted juniper trees. He listened, but there was no sound of pursuit. Not yet.