I think they will help me. I am blood, and you are with me. Ethan considered it. It was risky. The Apache had every reason to hate white men, and showing up on their doorstep asking for help was a good way to get killed.
But they were out of options. 3 Days, he said. Can we make it that long without Vance catching us? We will have to. That night they made a cold camp under the overhang, no fire, no light.
Ethan took the first watch, sitting with his back against the rock, rifle across his lap. Aela lay a few feet away, wrapped in a blanket, her breathing slow and even. He watched her sleep and thought about the last 35 days. Thought about how quickly everything had changed. A month ago, he'd been alone, half dead inside, going through the motions of a life that didn't mean anything.
Now he was alive, terrified and bleeding and running for his life, but alive. He'd forgotten what that felt like. Around midnight, Aela woke and took over the watch. Ethan tried to sleep, but couldn't. His mind kept replaying the fight, analyzing every mistake, every missed shot.
He kept seeing Vance's face, calm and cold, giving the order to burn. You should rest, Aela said softly. Tomorrow will be hard. Every day is hard. Some more than others.
Ethan sat up, rubbing his face. You ever regret it? Coming to me? No. Not even a little?
She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the starlight. I regret that you lost your home. I regret that we must run. But I do not regret choosing you. You are a good man, Ethan Cross, even if you do not believe it.
I'm a killer. So am I. We do what we must to survive. That does not make us evil. It makes us human.
Ethan didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded and lay back down, staring up at the ribbon of stars visible through the canyon opening. He didn't sleep, but he rested. And for now, that was enough. They left at dawn, riding north through the canyon system. The landscape was brutal and beautiful, red rock spires, narrow passes, dry riverbeds choked with sage.
Ethan knew this country. He'd spent months out here after Kansas, wandering aimlessly, trying to outrun his grief. He knew the water sources, the game trails, the places where a man could disappear if he needed to. He needed to now. By midday, they were 20 miles north of the ranch.