Jesse's arm went around the man's throat, cutting off his air and the blood to his brain simultaneously. The guard struggled for maybe 8 seconds, then went limp. Not dead, just unconscious. Jesse lowered him silently to the ground. Marcus moved on Swift Bird, but Marcus was nervous, inexperienced.
He fumbled his approach. Swift Bird started to turn, started to raise his rifle, started to yell. Jesse's knife flew. It was instinct, pure reflex from 20 years of staying alive. The blade took Swift Bird in the shoulder, spinning him around and dropping the rifle from his hands.
The boy gasped, but didn't scream. Jesse was on him in two steps, hand over his mouth. Easy, Jesse whispered in Apache, a language he'd learned during the war. Easy, young warrior. We're not here to hurt you.
Swift Bird's eyes were wide with shock and pain, but he didn't fight. Maybe because of the knife in his shoulder. Maybe because something in Jesse's voice reached through the years of Crane's conditioning. We're taking the Black Feather sisters, Jesse said, still in Apache. You can raise the alarm or you can let us pass.
Your choice, but know this. Your real family is looking for you. A woman named Diving Hawk, your aunt. She never stopped searching. Something flickered in Swift Bird's eyes.
Confusion. Memory trying to surface through the wall Crane had built around it. Marcus appeared with rope. They tied Swift Bird quickly, but not cruelly, gagged him with cloth. The boy watched them with those confused eyes as they carried him into the prisoner shed.
Inside, two cots, two young women chained to the wall. The older one, maybe 20, looked like Nala. Same high cheekbones, same dark eyes. But where Nala's face was hard with anger, this woman's face was gentle even in fear. Keona.
The younger one was maybe 12, small small and thin, her hair cut short and ragged. She looked at Jesse and Marcus with eyes that held terror, but also a fierce refusal to break. Yazi. Who are you? Keona asked, her voice weak with fever.
Jesse drew his bolt cutters and began working on her chains. Friends of your sister Nala. We're getting you out. Yazi's eyes went huge. Nala did not know.
In the name of them. Nala. She's alive? Crane said she was dead. She's very much alive and very angry.
The chain broke. Jesse moved to Yazi. Can you walk? I can run if I have to. Keona tried to stand.
Her left leg gave out. Jesse saw the infected wound, recognized the smell of rot. She'd been whipped and the wounds had festered. I'll carry her, Marcus said. They exited the shed, started back toward the cellar.
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.