Page 68 of Anthony Hawk

He turned his horse toward the mountains, the bodies fading behind him in the dust. His jaw was set firm.

They knew he was a traitor now. There’d be more waiting before the end.

But Brigg was riding home, and nothing short of death would stop him.

Chapter 31

The sun had barely touched the valley floor when Anthony shaded his eyes toward the horizon.

“Rider,” he said flatly.

Abigail rose from her crouch near the fire, scanning the haze of dust trailing across the basin. The horse labored, and its rider was slouched low, shoulders sagging as though the saddle itself might pitch him.

Her breath caught. “It’s Brigg.”

Anthony nodded once, already moving from the cottonwoods where they’d kept camp.

The rider drew near, and what little relief Abigail felt must have faded fast because her body deflated. Brigg’s hat was gone. Blood streaked his temple. His left arm hung stiff against his side. The horse slid to a halt, legs trembling from the long ride.

“You look like hell,” Anthony said, catching Brigg as he half-fell from the saddle.

“Rode through worse than hell,” Brigg muttered, teeth clenched. He sank against the roots of a tree, boots dragging dust.

“You’re hurt,” Abigail said, crouching beside him.

“Not dead, Doc. That’s what counts.” Brigg’s grin lasted a breath before fading. “Ambush. Twenty miles out. They came for me.”

“Vanburgh’s men?” Anthony asked.

“Sure as sin. Five of them,” he said. “Silas led the pack. Wesley too. They didn’t want the deed first...They wanted me cold.”

“How many made it out?” Anthony pressed.

“Three didn’t. Two won’t be riding far.” He flexed his good hand with a wince. “I damn near didn’t crawl away.”

“Let me look at your arm,” Abigail said, reaching for him.

“Later,” Brigg cut in. “First, I gotta speak it straight.”

Anthony crouched beside him, eyes dark. “Go on.”

“I reached Denver. Found the judge,” Brigg said, drawing a ragged breath. “Showed him the deed copies, laid it plain what Vanburgh’s scheming. He didn’t need much convincing. Said he’ll come himself...with a marshal. Said he’ll make the tribal claim law, haul Vanburgh to the bench.”

Anthony’s shoulders eased, but Brigg lifted a finger.

“One catch,” he said. “He won’t ride for seven days. Courts move slow, and he’s got duties to settle before leaving.”

“A week?” Abigail whispered. “We don’t have that long.”

“No,” Brigg said bitterly. “Vanburgh ain’t waiting. Not after last night. He’s near ready to blow that canyon wide open.”

Anthony’s voice was quiet. “We saw the wires. Powder stacked like cordwood.”

Brigg spat into the dirt. “So there it is. Law’s crawling. Vanburgh’s ready to light the fuse before the judge even hits the county line.”

Abigail’s chin lifted. “Then we fight.”

“We may have no choice,” Anthony agreed.