Page 62 of Anthony Hawk

Her gaze lingered on him. “You can feel it, can’t you? That he’s here. At Eagle Rock.”

Anthony held his breath as he listened to the sounds around him. Then he rose, brushing dirt from his hand.

“I can feel it,” he said. “He’s coiled in that canyon, sitting on powder and fuses...just waiting to strike along with his army.”

“Then tomorrow we decide,” she said. “One way or another. Do you think it’ll be too late by then?”

“Either way, we must wait for Deputy Brigg,” Anthony replied. “We can’t do this without him.”

Together, they worked quietly. Anthony stripped the saddles and checked the cinches before tethering the horses near the water. Meanwhile, Abigail gathered what little kindling the basin offered and built a fire so small it was more ember than flame.

When it caught, she sat opposite him with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around her legs.

The light painted them both in shifting gold. Anthony rested with the bow he grabbed from his saddle across his knees and his eyes on the black horizon where the ridges swallowed the lastof the sun. Abigail watched him for a while before she broke the silence.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said softly.

“Thinking, ma’am,” he said.

“That’s dangerous out here,” she teased, though her voice was weary.

“Safer than not thinking,” Anthony replied with a small smile. “Safer than charging blind.”

“And what are you thinking?” Abigail asked. She tilted her head, her eyes catching the firelight.

He fed a twig into the flames. The sparks rose quick and died even quicker.

“Vanburgh’s camp,” he said. “Brigg said he’s got men all through the canyon. Rifles stacked, dynamite piled high. We’ve seen them ourselves. If we don’t go in careful, we’ll never walk out.”

“Vanburgh doesn’t know careful,” Abigail replied, her gaze hardening. “He only knows fire and thunder. If he wanted you dead, he’d keep sending bounty men...but he isn’t. He’s saving the powder for something bigger.”

“You believe that?” Anthony asked, lifting his eyes to hers.

“I know it,” she said. “Those kegs aren’t for scaring us off. We know that he’s planning to erase something. Eagle Rock and all the tribes that surround it. Maybe even this whole valley.”

Anthony’s hand curled tight around his bow. “All to clear the land.”

“All to make Eagle Rock his,” she said bitterly.

For a while, the only sound was the creek and the fire. Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The firelight sharpened the contours of his face.

“Then we hit him before he can strike,” Anthony said.

Her brow furrowed. “Hit him how? You and me against an army?”

“Not an army, ma’am,” he said. “A gang. Paid men. They scatter once their head’s cut off. We cut Vanburgh out and the rest falls apart.”

“You make it sound simple,” Abigail replied, shaking her head. “But it’s not.”

“I didn’t say it was simple,” he said evenly. “But it’s what we’ve got.”

Abigail drew her knees closer, her voice softening. “And what about us?”

His eyes met hers, steady as stone. “What about us?”

“If something happens...” she faltered, then steadied herself. “If something happens to you, this all dies with you. Brigg may get to Denver, but Vanburgh will still be here, still holding the canyon. The tribes will be scattered. And Eagle Rock...”

Anthony didn’t mean to, but his hand moved, brushing against hers across the fire. He stopped when he felt her fingers, but she didn’t pull away.