The man who had given him the first ledger. He was shot with a 45, Louise said. And they found your kirchief in his pocket. The one with your brand stitched on it. It was a frame up.
Crude, simple, and effective. Get the fresh horses, Cal said. It is too late for horses, Louise said. They are at the gate. Cal grabbed his rifle.
He looked at the back door. Go, Patron. Luis said. I will talk to them. I will buy you 5 minutes.
Louise, go. Cal ran. He burst out the back door, sprinting low through the dry cornfield. He heard the shouts from the front yard. He heard Sheriff Miller's voice, amplified by fear.
Calhart, come out with your hands up. Cal reached the creek bed, which was dry and choked with tamarisque. He scrambled down the bank, his boots sliding on the loose stones. He didn't stop. He ran until his lungs burned until the ranch house was just a speck in the distance.
He was a fugitive now. The law was no longer an obstacle. It was a weapon pointed at his chest. He had to get to Naelli. They couldn't wait for Sunday.
They had to move now. He found her at the spring. She saw him coming on foot. Stumbling, covered in dust. She knew instantly.
They are coming. Cal gasped, falling to his knees by the water. Na didn't ask questions. She grabbed the reinss of her mare. She pulled Cal up.
Get on behind me, she said. They rode double until they were deep in the bad lands. A landscape of twisted rock and cactus that looked like the surface of the moon. That night, the cold was a physical assault. The temperature dropped to 20°.
They had no fire. To light a fire was to invite a bullet. They found shelter in a shallow depression beneath a shelf of sandstone. Cal was shivering uncontrollably. The shock of the run, combined with his injuries and the biting cold, was shutting his body down.
Naelli took charge. She was in her element now. The rancher knew cattle and fences. She knew survival. She cleared the ground of sharp stones.
She cut armfuls of sage brush to create an insulating layer against the frozen earth. She forced Cal to drink the last of the water. "You are freezing," she said. "I'm fine," Cal chattered. his teeth clicking together. "You are a liar," Niily said gently.
She lay down on the sage brush and pulled him down beside her. She opened her heavy Sarra and wrapped it around both of them. Cal stiffened. This was a boundary they had danced around but never crossed. "Be still," Niily commanded.
"This is not romance. This is heat." She pressed her body against his back, wrapping her arms around his chest. She could feel the tremors running through him. She could feel the rigid tape binding his ribs.
Slowly, the warmth began to bleed from her into him. The shivering subsided. Cal turned in her arms, shifting so he was facing her. The darkness was absolute, save for the brilliant icy wash of the stars above the canyon rim. He could not see her face clearly, but he could feel her breath on his cheek.
They took everything. Cal whispered. "My land, my name, now my freedom. They cannot take what you know," Niily said. She reached up and touched his face.
Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, the roughness of his stubble. "You are a strange man, Kalart," she said softly. "You fight for people who would kill you." "I fight for you," Cal said. The confession hung in the cold air.
Na moved closer. The barrier between them, the wall of race, of history, of marriage, seemed to dissolve in the freezing dark. There was only the heat of two bodies trying to stay alive. She kissed him. It was not a tentative kiss.
It was desperate. It tasted of salt and fear and an overwhelming, aching need. Cal made a low sound in his throat and pulled her closer, burying his hands in her hair. For a moment, the war didn't exist. The posi didn't exist.
There was only the sensation of her mouth. The solid weight of her against him, the fierce affirmation that they were still alive. Nelly pulled back, breathless. "We are alive," she whispered. Cal rested his forehead against hers.
"I love you," he said. The words terrified him more than the lynch mob. "I know, Na said. And that is why we must win." Morning brought a gray bleak dawn and the sound of distant gunfire.
The posi was tracking them. We need the last piece, Cal said, checking his revolver. He had six rounds left. We have the ledger. We have the manifest, but we need the order.
The paper that connects Vance to the agent directly. I know where it is. Nili said. Cal looked at her. How Chaitton?
She said, the boy they killed before he died. He told his grandmother he saw the agent hiding a box. Not at the agency, but at the old stage coach station near the river crossing. The one that burned down last year. It's a long shot.
Cal said it is the only shot. Nalie said they moved like ghosts. Na taught him how to step toe first, then heel, rolling the weight to avoid snapping twigs. She taught him to freeze when the wind died, to move only when the brush was rustling. They reached the burnt-out stage station by midday.
It was a ruin of blackened timber and adobe melting back into the earth. Cal crept into the remains of the main room. Nielli watched the ridge. He dug through the ash and debris in the corner where the chimney had collapsed. His fingers scraped against stone.
He found a loose flag stone. He pried it up. Beneath it was a metal strong box. Cal shot the lock off. The sound was deafening in the silence.
He opened it. Inside were stacks of greenbacks, thousands of dollars in bribe money, and a letter. It was on the stationery of the Cyrus Vance Cattle Company. Silus, it read, "The unexpected arrival of the Sixth Cavalry is our opportunity. Create an incident.
Make sure the blame falls on the hostiles. I need the valley cleared by January. Authorization for the raids is enclosed." CV Cal held the paper up. His hands were shaking.
"We have them," he said. A bullet struck the adobe wall 6 in from his head. Dust exploded into his eyes. "They are here," Na screamed. Cal scrambled back, shoving the letter into his coat.
He looked out the window. On the ridge to the north, a line of riders had appeared. The sun glinted on badges. On the ridge to the south, blue uniforms appeared. "The cavalry, they were pinched.
The troops are here," Cal said. He looked at Naelli. They think they are catching an Apache war party. They will kill us. Nielli said, "Not if we make it to the town."
Cal said the town was 5 mi away. Between them and the town was open ground. We can't outrun them. Na said. No.
Cal said. He looked at the horses. We can't run. He turned to her. He grabbed her shoulders.
We walk. He said walk. We walk straight down the road. We hold the papers up. If we run, we are prey.
If we walk, we are witnesses. It was madness. It was the only choice left. Nellie looked at the riders closing in. She looked at Cal.
She saw the fear in his eyes, but she also saw the iron resolve. Then we walk. She said, "They stepped out of the ruins of the station. They did not mount their horses. They slapped the animals on the rump, sending them galloping off into the brush to draw fire.