Far back—it came from far back. Behind the bridge. Beyond the crossroads. Probably near that trampled wheat field. A murder of crows flew overhead, crying. Then, three shots cracked through the air. Each one held a life at its end. Each one vanished faster than a heartbeat.
It looked like they missed one, I thought.
Then, a fourth shot rang out, reminding me never to hope for the best—especially not for others.
Up ahead, the party carried on. Eyes on the road. Hands tight. Their instincts told them to gallop. And they would have, if not for the Boss's orders.
"They don’t know what direction we’re traveling," he'd said. "But some of those bastards have ears like hounds. They'll hear ten horses galloping a mile off. So we take our time. Don’t spook the horses. Don’t waste their strength before we need it."
"Any objections?"
Hell no. There never were. The last man who objected had been many moons ago, back when the Boss still had some black in his hair, back when his eyes were just common brown. Back when he was still just one man. Before he stopped buying shells and powder like the rest of us.
That thought reminded me to check my own stock. I was still loaded on both sidearms and had ten shots left in the rifle. It was lighter than I liked, but it would have to do. On one of our quick escapes, a branch had snagged my ammo bag, leaving a tiny hole—the kind you don’t notice until you realize how light it’s grown. Then, with a finger poking through from the inside, I'd found the culprit.
Rob’s girl had stitched it back up for me. At the start of our trip, I wanted to get to know her better. She was younger than me by a handful of years but had spent twice as long in school, so I figured that balanced our minds out. Hell, if not, it gave her the edge. Since I was eleven, my daddy had me running routes. By fifteen, he let me join the smaller expeditions when I could shoot better than most marksmen. A few years later, we met the Boss. Then Dad died, and the Boss took that spot without anyone noticing the difference.
We kept riding at a steady pace for the next few hours. The sun moved across the sky, dipping behind the trees before setting on us as we left the woods and entered the jagged canyons. Close. We were damn close. If we hadn’t gotten held up at that checkpoint a few days back, we could’ve reached the canyon tonight, made the village by midnight, collected our pay, and slept under a local girl for warmth.
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The thought crawled onto my face before I could stop it. Heat rose to my cheeks. I grinned, hoping no one noticed—but then I caught Joy looking at me with those round, kind eyes. Blue as a lagoon, those stones pierced my shallow thoughts with a solid burst. Meeting her gaze, I let my grin grow.
Blushing, she parried like only young beauties know-how, turning back toward her mother, who had her own set of eyes on me. Ones that weren’t anywhere near as soft or pure. Ones that mimicked how hounds protect their pups. I tipped my hat toward them, lowering my smile like a man does his iron.
From the front of the pack, the Boss pulled up with Sylvester, his right-hand man. I had been stationed at the rear, keeping watch over the wagons. Shit, the Boss was no fool; he knew if Joy were within spitting distance of those wagons, my eyes would wander.
"In one hour, we’ll reach a slit between the canyon walls. Good spot. I’ve used it before. We’ll rest there for a few hours, then finish the trek at sunrise."
"Fine by me, Boss."
Sylvester spat. I didn’t hate the man. Maybe it was just that he took my dad’s spot beside the Boss. Some part of me thought I’d inherit the position of right-hand man, but I was still too wet behind the ears. At least, that’s what the Boss told me. But that was two years ago. One of these days, I thought, my eyes drifting to the badge stitched on Sylvester's sleeve. A hawk perched upon a cross—same as the Boss’s.
The Boss gave me a look that told me to straighten up. Then he and Sylvester started back to the front. But Sylvester had to throw in a parting shot before they got too far.
"Another thing, boy. Don’t get too friendly with the clients. Wouldn’t want our tip halved because a young pup can’t control his pecker."
They both laughed and left me red like the canyon walls.
The next hour passed without a hitch. The only downside was that Joy didn’t send any more looks my way, so I begrudgingly did my job. Focusing my spirit, I pulsed it into my eardrums and listened as my eyes went hazy. Above, mountain lions wrestled with their prey. Higher still, eagles soared. Anything beyond that was outside my range, but I hoped I’d done enough. With a click of my tongue, I signaled the men that the coast was clear.
Then I heard it.
Focusing on the slit in the canyon where the Boss planned to camp, I picked up the laughter of men, the clinking of mugs, and the crackling of an intense fire.
Shit.
I made two clicks and moved to the front alongside the Boss.
"I know," he said calmly.
As I turned back to return to my position at the rear, my eyes met Joy’s and her family’s. Panic spread across her lake-blue eyes, sending a dull ache through my chest. I shouldn’t have cared that much. Hell, I hardly knew the girl. But I got sentimental when I tapped into my spirit well.
I cursed under my breath.
Shit. We’ve got company.