I asked the girl at the counter of the Farmburger if she was sure, but she insisted. I will sometimes buy myself a Coke as a desert after a meal, but she very graciously offered this one to me for free, and I’m still wondering why.

I sipped it on the road from Asheville to Lake Junaluska, listening as I often do when driving, to another of Paul Vanderklay’s videos. My mind began to wander (as it also often does when I drive) back and forth between questions of what I might want to discuss over the coming weekend as well as how I would best hide from the embarrassment that if not for the Murphy Campbell performance happening the following evening, I may have never bought a ticket to Southeastuary in the first place.

Too late now, I suppose.

By the time I arrived at the first estuary session, after a round of introductions and a couple first pitches, it came time for me to share what was on my mind. The dissolution of enlightenment liberalism sprang to mind, a ‘thinky-talky’ topic for those among us with too much time on their hands with which to think. Namely, me. Or perhaps a deeper question plaguing me recently regarding whether a work of art (like perhaps, writing) could ever truly be an act of service, a question whose answer I yearned for about as equally as I dreaded. As I weighed them both, a third option emerged which presented itself in that moment as the only right choice.

Recently, someone I am by no means close with approached me.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asked.

Basking in vanity, I gladly obliged.

“Do you believe in God?”

Being the infantile & vane inquirer into Orthodox Christianity that I am currently, I answered excited to encounter his own perspective wherever it was and share my own. After a mostly breezy back and forth, I learned quickly that such a question is usually not asked lightly. What sparked his curiosity was related to the sudden and unexpected passing of a close friend.

“Why would God do this?” he asked me.

I struggled with relaying an analogy about blind men feeling up an elephant -- one may feel its leg and assume it a tree trunk, another its tail and mistake it for a brush -- but none of them would have the complete picture. Only God can see the whole elephant for what it is. A woefully insufficient response, in my estimation, and I shared as much with my estuary group, asking what is the best way to address such a question? Everyone in my group shared their thoughts, each circling a theme that (in retrospect) pointed to what would emerge in the first presentation, the subject which none of us knew ahead of time: The Book of Job, and the potential answers therein. Not clear or even coherent ones, as is so often the case with these things, but an answer would come soon enough.

The day continued with further presentations and conversations with other estuarians, both in and out of my group, culminating in Murphy’s performance at the Scottsman pub in Waynesville, a short drive away from where we were staying in Junaluska. It was there I shook hands with Michael Martin, and felt compelled to clarify.

“I hope you don’t think I was antagonizing you with that question,” I told him.

I’d asked him after his presentation earlier that day about a point he made regarding “listening to the land” when he writes his poetry. I wanted to know how he knew it was the land he was communing with.

“Poetic creation discloses worlds,” he said, among other things.

What I was looking for, somewhat facetiously, was an indication of what Percy Bysshe Shelley once described in A Defence of Poetry:

Poetry, in a general sense, may be defined to be “the expression of the Imagination”: and poetry is connate with the origin of man. Man is an instrument over which a series of external and internal impressions are driven, like the alternations of an everchanging wind over an Aeolian lyre, which move it by their motion to ever-changing melody.

Carl Trueman, in Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self, expands on the significance of the allusion to a lyre:

This is a musical instrument played by the wind, not by any human hand. Essentially, the force of nature in the form of wind strikes the harp’s chimes and causes it to create music, to give expression to what would otherwise be an inexpressible force, in accordance with the harp’s own construction. The point of the analogy is clear: poetry is the result of the forces of nature moving the poet to give them literary or artistic expression. The poet is inspired by nature, not simply by way of his own emotional reaction to it but by forces that are innate within nature itself, and therefore external to him, and that moves him in his works of artistic creation.

If an emotion can intentionally and reliably be generated multiple times across multiple spaces through a piece of artistic expression, that would point to an external emotional reality the work acts as a bridge to which exists outside the subjective.

This reality was very much contested by one estuarian on stage the following day, who questioned whether it was even the voice of God people hear when reading the Bible. A likely heretical position, by his own admission, but emblematic of what I find so refreshing about the estuary space. John Vandonk describes estuary as a protocol for mutually respectful conversation across ideological lines. This is not the realm of debate bros looking to own one another with facts and scripture. Everyone here is pointed in a single direction: the seeking of that which is true, good & beautiful.

But to what end?

Some of us in my group, myself included, were interested in the practical application of what emerges from our estuary sessions. A pertinent question, particularly of the young parents among us. Admittedly, one of my biggest reasons for attending this and the previous Chicago event is to glean insight from parents as to better prepare myself for fatherhood. Not like I’ve even met their mother yet, but if getting miles ahead of myself was a competitive sport, I’d have gone pro years ago.

It can be, perhaps, a particular kind of easy to dwell in the collection of ideas, the temptation being that with just enough information, one can avoid the pitfalls of life. A folly, of course, as “the goal of knowing is an ongoing communion with the real,” as Esther Meek put it in her presentation. It never ends, of course. “Knowing explodes more than it explains,” she said, as one question begets the next -- assuming you’re asking the right ones. The only place from which to do so is never at but through, as engagement with the real demands integration enough as to yield to the multiplicity of potential.

What then is the right kind of question?

What Job teaches us is so often “why” is not the right question to ask, but instead: what can I do now? The next right thing, of course.

In other words, as put forward in all its brilliant simplicity by a mother of 2 in our group -- we honor God.

At the campfire on the final night, I had a lively conversation with a woman who earlier said the hesychastic Jesus prayer gave her the impression of cowering in a corner in fear, begging for mercy from a wrathful God. She later had it clarified by an Orthodox Christian among us that what we ask for when we ask for mercy in such a prayer is as a salvific, like a healing balm with which we ask Jesus to apply over our souls. In any case, I felt compelled to share with her based on her earlier impression that the foundation of my faith is that when we are called to our final judgment for all we have done, whatever decision God renders will be good.

It was there on that chilly night, surrounded by both new friends and total strangers alike, singing songs & chasing the tails of sparks as they danced upward from the flame we surrounded, that I was offered a whisper of the good of God’s creation. And what he said, was don’t worry about it.

“You lost, Injun?” One of them asked.

“Not at a…

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Abigail awoke inside of a large tent. She had no recollection of how she arrived here, as far as she remembered, she should’ve frozen to death out there in the snow. Yet, she found herself warm as she lay beside a small fire crackling in the middle of the space. Across the flames, an elderly Native woman sat an…

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Esperanza sat atop her Father’s horse as he steered his gang westward. He hadn’t been particularly open about where they were going, but if the life on the road they led before she’d managed to escape was any indication, it wouldn’t take long for the bullets to start flying and they’d have to move along once again.…

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The snow fell gently upon them as they crossed the border into Tennessee. It had been nearly 2,000 miles they’d traveled to get here, and Abigail felt a sudden sense of emptiness wash over her as they made their approach. Would she finally be free? Or, perhaps worse, did she even want such a thing anymore…

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They made camp at the base of the mountain. Esperanza remained reticent. Abigail was desperate to reach out to her; there must’ve been some combination of words assorted that would fix what ailed her. However, she found herself paralyzed by the thought of her existence causing collateral damage to the people arou…

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“Stay here,” Abigail whispered.

“What? Why?” Esperanz…

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Clint ran inside the Inn with such speed, he nearly fell flat on his face as he ran up the stairs to Colin’s room. Those of Colin’s gang that remained; the few that hadn’t run off from this foolhardy quest to chase a teenage girl halfway across the continent, occupied each room of the building. They hadn’t paid …

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Abigail awoke in bed with a sharp gasp, air like knives swirling in a storm within her lungs. She held her hand to her chest, every breath she heaved sent waves of pain throughout her body. The only thing that was seemingly keeping her crackling rib cage together was the set of sweaty bandages that ran across her chest. That’s new, it occurred to her. She looked around to see the tiny bedroom she’d been recovering in. Aside from the cramped bed she was currently laying on, there was a small bedside table next to her. Rain beat down on the only window in the bedroom, but whose bed was this?

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” she heard a woman say to her. Soothed little by the presence of a stranger, Abigail quickly pushed herself up against the wall to face her. In the doorway she met the gaze of a pregnant woman with a welcoming expression.

“Who are you?” Abigail asked.

“My name is Suzanne,” she answered. “I’m your brother’s wife.”

So that was real, Abigail thought. She attempted to sit up straight on the bed, but winced from her body’s cries that she not move at all.

“You beat yourself up pretty good,” Suzanne said. “Going over a waterfall, I heard?”

“What can I say?” Abigail said as she shifted into a more tolerable position. “I live for excitement.”

“You’re lucky Ben found you when he did.”

“Where is he?”

“Upstairs. I can go get him if you like.”

“I can get him,” Abigail declared as she staggered out of bed.

“Easy now,” she warned as she crossed the room to assist. “You’ve been in that bed for nearly three days.” Abigail swatted her away.

“Leave me be!” Abigail’s arm quaked as she held herself up against the wall.

“Don’t be afraid to ask for help, now.” Suzanne kept her distance.

Abigail slowly shambled out of the bedroom by hugging the walls, and entered the living room at the base of the stairs. This house was easily twice the size of the one she’d been forced to abandon—almost regal by comparison. Benjamin had done well for himself in the years since they’d seen each other last.

“Where’s the girl?” Abigail asked.

“Esperanza?” The girl had a name after all. Abigail nodded.

“She’s fine, don’t you worry.”

“She hasn’t been torturing y’all while I’ve been indisposed, has she?”

“Heavens, no!” Suzanne smiled. “She’s a good kid, that one. Hasn’t stopped trying to help out around the ranch.”

“I suppose it’s just me she pesters for sport,” Abigail grumbled. Suzanne gave her an awkward laugh.

“Abby.” Even if its texture was gruff, roughened by the intervening years, there was no mistaking his voice. She turned to greet him and there at the bottom of the stairs, stood her brother. She dragged herself over to him, and nearly fell in the process. He caught her, his worn hands holding her by the arms. He towered over her, as Benji always did. She laid her head against his chest, and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her all the same, and Abigail winced from the pain, to which her brother apologized.

“I don’t care,” she assured him, and she tightened her embrace. This was the first time in over a decade Abigail wasn’t plagued with thought—the world was quiet, her mind was clear and Benjamin was here and if time allowed, she would stay right here for another ten years.

“Let’s get you off your feet,” he told her as he helped her walk over to the living room to take a seat in a cushy chair. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” He sat down across from her, Suzanne beside him.

“I’d say the same.”

“I thought you were dead,” Benjamin said. “I searched the forest around the house for weeks afterward.”

“How did you get away from those Injuns?”

“Barely. I had to light the place up to get away, but not before one of them stuck me good.” He unbuttoned his shirt to show her the massive scar across his chest. “When I came back with the cavalry,” he said as he buttoned his shirt, “they’d taken what they wanted and left. What about you? What happened?”

“That’s a very broad question with a very long answer.”

“I’ve got nothing but time for you, Abby.”

Of all the days Abigail might needlessly replay, the day the house was attacked was one she hadn’t thought about in a long while. She looked to the window as rain beat down upon it.

“I met a boy in the woods.”

Click here to continue to Chapter 9.

You can buy a print copy of this novel by clicking here. The audiobook is also available wherever you get your audiobooks.

Ridgewood far behind them, Abigail and Esperanza made camp in the woods shortly after they crossed the Texas border. Horses hitched to a nearby tree, the pair of them took their rest on opposite sides of the campfire. Jules lay curled up at Esperanza’s feet. Abigail stared at the night sky, a brilliant blanket that stitched together an unfathomable amount of stars. To her side, Esperanza giggled as she read a dime novel.

“What are you laughing about?” Abigail asked.

“This story I’m reading is very comical,” she said. “A roguish explorer uncovers treasures from ancient civilizations, and he’s got a wit about him.”

“Why do you waste your time reading fanciful trash?” Abigail turned to her.

“It’s no Jules Verne, but I’d hardly resort to calling it trash.”

“Where’d you even get that?”

“Borrowed it from Bill,” she confessed, almost hiding behind the pages of the book.

“Borrowed?” Abigail huffed.

“Did you just laugh?” Esperanza asked.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ain’t no good gon’ come from fillin’ your head with the ideas of others,” Abigail said.

“Where’s all this vitriol springing from? Did a book convince your husband to leave you?”

“You best watch your tongue, girl.”

“You seem so aggressive in your stance against escapism.”

“The sooner you realize there is no escape, the better off you’ll be.” It wasn’t but a moment when the motive behind Abigail’s contempt finally dawned on Esperanza.

“Now I get it.”

“Get what?” Abigail sat upright.

“You can’t read, can you?” She asked.

“I don’t need to read.”

“But if you had to, you couldn’t?”

Abigail had no reply.

“No wonder you made me read the handbill,” she muttered.

“Go to bed, girl.” Abigail turned away from the fire and laid back down. “We’re up at dawn.”

Esperanza couldn’t help but laugh to herself and continued reading on. She was hard to awaken the next morning, tired from spending too much time enjoying a vicarious adventure. After a good shove from Abigail she was awake, and the pair of them readied their horses for another day’s journey. As they trotted along down a dirt road, Jules followed on the ground, her leg having mostly healed by now. Something caught her attention though, and she planted her paws in the ground and started to growl.

“What is it, girl?” Esperanza asked. Jules had made eye contact with a rabbit, and they stared each other down. As Esperanza followed the dog’s line of sight to the tiny creature, she knew it was already too late. Jules bolted, and despite Esperanza calling out to her, the beast couldn’t be stopped. The rabbit hopped away into the thick brush with blazing speed, but Jules kept up with it. The forest too dense for her to follow on horseback, Esperanza dismounted and ran after them.

“Girl!” Abigail shouted, but she too, could not be stopped.

Jules flew over fallen logs, ducked and weaved through the labyrinthine structure of the piney wood—refusing to let up in her pursuit. The rabbit made her work for it, hopping away with incredible grace and blazing speed. Esperanza trailed behind them, failing to keep up with their pace. With the speed Jules displayed, it was hard to believe her leg had been injured just a few short weeks earlier. The distance between predator and prey shrunk with every inch Jules gained, until the rabbit unwittingly hopped into a trap.

A net sprung out from underneath a pile of leaves, scooping up the rabbit from below and suspending it from the branch of a tree. Jules barked to high hell underneath the rabbit as it dangled above her. From behind a tree, an old woman held the rope that carried the critter in the air.

“Go on, dog!” She shouted. “Git!”

“Hey!” Esperanza finally caught up to them.

“This your dog?” The old woman barked.

“That’s right.” Esperanza replied. “Jules!” The dog was quick to hush.

“Well, I suppose I should be thanking her.” The old woman approached Jules and patted her on the head. Jules panted with a grin upon receipt of the old woman’s affection. “She helped me catch supper.”

“You just wait here until something crawls through your trap?” She asked.

“Heavens, no! I’d likely starve to death if I did that! I was just about through setting up this trap when I saw providence hopping my way. Come to think of it, you best exercise caution on your way back. You may end up in another one of these!” She pointed at the net that swung above their heads. She lowered the trap and took the rabbit in hand. She unsheathed a knife from her belt.

Abigail had finally caught up to them, arriving upon the sight of a strange old woman brandishing a knife in front of Esperanza. She was quick to raise her rifle.

“Don’t even think about it!” She shouted.

“Good lord, woman!” The old lady said. “Is that how you greet everybody?” Abigail spotted the rabbit in the woman’s other hand.

“What’s going on here?” Abigail lowered her weapon.

“I was just thanking your daughter for helping me catch this little guy.” The old woman took the knife and slit the rabbit’s throat.

Esperanza shuddered.

“She’s not my daughter.” Abigail clarified.

“Oh.” The old woman said.

“We really ought to get going.” Abigail told Esperanza.

“Nonsense, girls! You helped me catch supper. Why not join me for some?”

“Can we?” Esperanza asked Abigail.

“We wouldn’t want to intrude.” Abigail said, doing her best to navigate the semantic landscape and avoid upsetting the strange old woman currently wielding a bloody knife.

“Oh heaven’s no. My husband loves company. Come!” She walked away. Esperanza looked to Abigail for approval, and Abigail rolled her eyes.

“Gotta get the horses first.”

Esperanza smiled. After they returned from grabbing the horses, they led their steeds by the reins as the old woman shepherded them all toward her home.

“What’s your name, Miss?” Esperanza asked.

“Evelyn.” It wasn’t long at all before they’d arrived at the cabin. “You can hitch ‘em up here.” She pointed to a post by the front porch. After they hitched the horses, Esperanza stepped onto the porch to follow Evelyn inside but Abigail lagged a bit as she looked around at their surroundings. She noticed what looked like the skulls and bones of small animals, dangling from the branches of the trees that surrounded them.

“Where’s your husband, Evelyn?” Abigail asked.

“Just inside! Come!”

Abigail approached the door behind them. She stopped Esperanza from entering, as a putrid stench stung Abigail’s nose. Abigail entered first, just in case. Inside the cozy quarters, they saw a single bed up against the wall, a shelf with maybe two dozen books and the various trophies of wild game adorning the wall. The smell they’d encountered outside was even more potent in here and Abigail physically recoiled from the repugnance.

“Robert! We have company!” Evelyn called out. Abigail and Esperanza looked around for her husband. The décor was unassuming enough, with the exception of the rotting corpse sitting on a chair in the corner of the cabin, whom they could only presume was once Robert. Both Abigail and Esperanza looked at each other, wondering what exactly they’d managed to get themselves into this time. Evelyn walked over to Robert and leaned in.

“Don’t be rude, Robbie. Say hi!” She told him.

Dead silence.

“Isn’t he a trip?” Evelyn asked them with a grin.

“There’s a word for it.” Abigail said.

“Come, sit!” Evelyn extended a hand toward the table in the middle of the cabin.

The girls took heavy steps toward the table, each of them pondering whether it was indeed too late to turn down supper but before they could arrive at an answer, they’d already dragged out their chairs and took their seats. Evelyn stoked the fire in the fireplace, and once it was good and hot, she crossed over to the table to prepare the rabbit.

“How long have you two been together?” Esperanza asked her.

“Ever since we were kids!” Evelyn said. “Both our families owned plots of land just beside each other. They weren’t too keen on Robbie and I getting together, and they did their damndest to try and keep us away from each other. But love ain’t so quick to die, ain’t it Robbie?”

Again, silence.

“We ended up runnin’ away together,” she continued. “Haven’t spent a day apart since! We built this cabin ourselves, you know.”

“He doesn’t say much, does he?” Abigail asked her.

“He always has been somewhat taciturn.” She slid all the ingredients into a pot and carried it over to the fire. Esperanza shifted in her chair and recoiled from the shock of something unnaturally frigid beneath the wooden table. She leaned over to get a look at what she’d brushed against and shot straight back up in her chair at the sight of it. Abigail’s brow furled, and Esperanza pointed down at the table.

Abigail leaned over much the same to take a look, and noticed a double barrel shotgun strapped to the bottom of the table. This just keeps getting better, Abigail thought. Evelyn, now finished with the stew, approached the table with two bowls in hand. She placed them out in front of the girls.

“Dig in!” she said.

“Thanks!” Esperanza looked down at the bowl of dull brown something that lay before her. Abigail pushed the soup around with her wooden spoon. Esperanza, always the adventurous one, carefully brought the spoon to her lips and let the liquid drip onto her tongue, seemingly one drop at a time. She went from drops to sips, and quickly transitioned to scarfing it down by the spoonful. This was a surprising turn of events that unfolded in front of Abigail, though not nearly as surprising as walking into a strange woman’s cabin to find her husband rotting in a corner chair. Abigail tasted a spoonful of soup herself, and quickly understood what had Esperanza so ravenous. Evelyn may have been off her rocker, but she damn well knew how to stew.

Evelyn took her seat at the head of the table with a bowl of her own. Before she could take her first sip, she slammed her spoon down on the table like a gavel. Abigail and Esperanza jumped at the sound of it.

“Robert! There’s no need to be so rude!” She shouted.

“You two don’t get much company around here?” Abigail asked her.

“Not often, no.” She said. “Frankly, it’s been some time since I cooked for more than just the two of us.”

“Do you ever think about life without Robbie?” Abigail asked her.

“Why would I have to?” Evelyn replied.

Jules began to growl.

“What is it, Jules?” Esperanza asked. Abigail looked over her shoulder to the window behind her. There were men approaching the cabin from the forest.

“Jules?” Evelyn asked Esperanza.

“Yes ma’am.” She said with a smile.

“As in Verne?” Evelyn asked. Esperanza lit up.

“That’s right!”

“Shit.” Abigail muttered. The McCalister gang had followed them here.

“What’s the matter?” Evelyn asked.

“We’ve been followed.” She said.

“Friends of yours?” Evelyn asked.

“Hardly.” Abigail replied.

“What do we do?” Esperanza asked.

Evelyn stood up from her chair and crossed the cabin over to a hatch by Robert’s feet. She swung it open.

“Hide down here.” She suggested.

“What about you?” Esperanza asked.

“Don’t worry about me,” she assured them. “I can handle it.”

Esperanza approached the hatch, Jules by her side.

“Leave the dog up here.” She instructed. Jules whimpered as Esperanza tried to calm her down.

“It’s okay, girl. Stay.” The dog sat beside Evelyn as Esperanza and Abigail walked down the steps into the basement underneath the cabin. Evelyn shut the hatch behind them. She took a pelt suspended over the mantle and laid it over the hatch door. After a deep breath, she exited the cabin. Colin and his crew approached.

“Afternoon, gentlemen.” She said.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Colin said.

“What can I do for you?” She asked them.

“We’re looking for somebody. Have reason to believe they were headed in this direction.” He informed her.

“Looking for who?” If she played dumb enough, she figured, they might not even bother going inside.

Back underneath the cabin, Abigail and Esperanza stood in the cramped space. Light from the cabin crept in from the cracks in the floorboards above them, and a small crack in the baseboard lining the top of the basement let in light from outside.

“How the hell did they find us?” Abigail asked.

“They’re good at tracking.” Esperanza said.

“Or maybe we’re good at leaving an obvious trail.” She said.

“There was one time someone in our gang spoke out against Colin. He snuck away from camp while everyone was asleep, but by the next night, Colin had come back with his body in the back of a wagon.” Esperanza recalled.

“What could he have possibly said to demand such a reaction?” Abigail asked.

“Had nothing to do with what he said. It was about sending a message to the rest of us.”

Upstairs, Evelyn and Colin entered, a couple of the other gang members following behind them.

“As you can see, gentlemen,” she assured them, “It’s just my husband and I.” She said. Jules barked. “And Jules, of course.” She crossed over to pat the dog on the head.

“Woo-hoo, god damn, miss!” Colin shouted. “That’s your husband?” He pointed to the corpse.

“That’s right.”

“It smells to high hell in here.” He exclaimed.

“Probably what you dragged in with you.” Evelyn said.

“No, I reckon it’s dead fucking body in the corner there.” He said.

“Don’t you talk about Robbie like that!” She yelled. Jules barked at Colin.

“Look, bitch! I know you’re lying. You got two horses hitched out there, and I know the other one ain’t his! Where is she?” He demanded. Jules refused to pipe down. “Shut that fuckin’ dog up.” One of his cronies drew a pistol.

Esperanza squeaked at the sight of Jules in trouble and Abigail was quick to cover her mouth, but by that point—it was too late. Colin looked at the floorboards. He got down on his knees and pressed his face to the cracks. They could see his eye as it peered down at them.

Evelyn kicked the table over, grabbing the shotgun underneath it and blasting away one of his gang members. Colin quickly dove out the front window as the rest of his gang returned fire, but Evelyn kept shooting!

Abigail punched the baseboard out and opened it up, wide enough for them to crawl out of. She helped Esperanza up and she wiggled her way out from underneath the house.

“Run, girl!” Abigail shouted. As Evelyn took cover from heavy fire on the front side of the house, Esperanza slipped out the back and ran.

“Come on, Jules!” She shouted, and Jules dove out the same window Colin jumped through. She ran through the firefight and circled around the house. Colin couldn’t help but notice the dog rounding the house.

“Cover me.” He said to one of his gang members as he ran to follow the dog. Abigail managed to squeeze out from underneath the cabin, and she ran after Jules and Esperanza. Colin rounded the house, saw them attempting to escape and gave chase, shooting his pistol all the way. “Get back here, Esperanza!”

Abigail caught up to her, and the three of them ran as fast as their legs would carry them.

“Don’t stop!” Abigail shouted. It wasn’t but a second after she said it that they failed to notice the steep drop off they were running straight for, and Esperanza tumbled down into a raging river below. “Swim to the shore!” Abigail shouted, but Esperanza treaded water. Jules didn’t hesitate to jump off into the river and swim after her.

“I can’t—I can’t—“ Esperanza tried to say as her head bobbed above and below the water. It was then that Abigail realized the girl couldn’t swim. She slid down the hill and dove into the river below. She swam with the current and caught up to Esperanza, taking her in hand to keep her head above water. “Hang onto me!” Abigail told her. She tried to carry her to the shore, but the current carried them straight into a rock. Abigail lost her grip on the girl with the impact and floated further down the river. Esperanza managed to hang onto the rock for dear life.

“Abigail!” Esperanza called out.

“Get out of the water!” She yelled. Esperanza yelled something else at Abigail, but the distance growing between them combined with the roar of the raging rapids made it difficult to hear. “What?” Abigail yelled.

“Waterfall!” Esperanza shouted. Abigail managed to turn herself around and noticed she was being carried to the drop. She tried to swim against the current toward the edges but it was no use. She fell some fifty or sixty feet into a lake below, landing on a rock that sent shockwaves through her bones. Despite her body crying out in pain, she managed to paddle her way over to the shore and just barely dragged herself out of the lake.

She turned over to lie on her back and groaned in agony. She stared at the sky. With every breath she heaved, she could feel her ribs cracking as her chest expanded and retracted. To her side, she could hear someone ride up beside her. She tried to turn her neck, but the pain was so intense that she could do nothing more than lay there motionless. Perhaps Colin would take care of Abigail’s problem and bring their short-lived journey to a close. If it would put her out of this pain, both the shock she was currently in and the rest she’d carried for years, it would be most welcome indeed.

The man stood above her, silhouetted against the sun. She could barely make him out. It couldn’t have been Colin. As her vision adjusted, she recognized a face that she thought she’d never see again.

“Abby?” Her brother said.

“Benji?” She could hardly believe it. A rugged and aged Benjamin stood above her. Had she already died and dragged herself into the afterlife? They both had a tough time believing the providence that had transpired to reunite them, but before she could squeeze out another word; her head grew weary, her vision began to fade, and she fell unconscious.

Click here to continue to Chapter 8.

You can buy a print copy of this novel by clicking here. The audiobook is also available wherever you get your audiobooks.

They’d been traveling westward in the direction of Pike’s Basin for some time when Esperanza’s stomach grumbled. Abigail was long beyond the point of needing to keep up with regular meals—she’d go days without so much as a crumb more often than not, but hunger was a sensation she was rarely compelled to action by. The girl could not so easily tell her stomach to quiet down, as her last meal was well before she’d met Abigail’s acquaintance.

The McCalister gang was a large one, at least, before Abigail crossed their path. While a few of them reveled in the vagrancy of the outlaw lifestyle, most of them were a patchwork of families who’d lost everything they’d ever worked towards for one reason or another and found both family and security under Colin’s stead. While the men would ride out and bring back money by any means necessary, the women would stay back at wherever they’d made camp for now and prepare the group’s meals. While it was far from a regal feast, Esperanza’s mind was presently drowning in memories of Aunt Cass’s stew. The growl of her stomach was underpinned by a vicious echo, where even Jules barked in solidarity.

“Me too.” Esperanza’s legs grew heavier with every step they marched forward.

“Quit lagging.” Abigail commanded from up ahead.

“If I had some food, it might be easier for me to keep up.”

“You’re welcome to the berries in that bush over there that may or may not be poison,” Abigail said as she pointed in its direction. “Or maybe that pile of rocks over there. They look tasty.”

“Do you get a rise out of belittling people?” Esperanza asked.

“Do you get a rise out of complaining?” Abigail replied.

“Forgive me,” Esperanza said, “not all of us are trying to die of starvation.”

“That’s harder than it seems.” Abigail could just make out a black and white critter on the ground up ahead. She raised her fist, and everyone stopped moving.

“What?”

Abigail pointed at the skunk.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Are you hungry or are you not?”

Esperanza looked down at Jules. She whimpered, but whether she was agreeing with Esperanza’s apprehension or merely expressing the torture of sitting still with her bum leg while every fiber of her being pushed her to chase down the critter was anyone’s guess. Esperanza looked back up at Abigail.

“What do you expect me to do?” Esperanza asked her.

She’d wandered on her own for so long, she wasn’t used to having so much noise follow in her wake. That it didn’t even occur to this girl that she take an active role in securing her meal left Abigail without words. If it meant the girl would shut up, she’d take on the hunt herself. It would only be temporary, anyway. All she had to do was get her to Tennessee, and Abigail would have her peace.

Abigail took the rifle slung across her back and laid it against a nearby tree. She crept over toward the skunk, careful not to rustle up too much noise and scare it off. Once close enough to attack, she dived for the ground with her arms out to catch the critter but the skunk was quick on its feet. It scurried away and sprayed Abigail in the process. Esperanza couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m guessing they kept you tied up cause you weren’t good for much else.” Abigail said.

“I’m sorry.” Esperanza covered the smirk on her face with her hand.

Abigail’s cheeks stung with the stench of a thousand foul pricks. She tried to wipe as much of the spray off her face as she could, but it did more to spread the smell than to remove it.

“Here.” Abigail grabbed the rifle and threw it at Esperanza.

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Catch supper,” Abigail replied. “Where’s our heading?”

“West?” She squeaked.

“Was that a question?”

“West!” Esperanza took the lead, and they scoured the woods in search of their supper. They came upon a deer grazing by its lonesome, and Abigail held Esperanza back before she could get close enough to scare it off.

“Line up your shot.” Abigail whispered.

“From here? I can’t aim that far.”

“It’s a rifle, you’ll be fine.”

Esperanza raised her weapon and pointed it at the deer, still munching on grass. She pressed her cheek to the rifle to line up her sights.

“Not like that, you’re gonna bust your cheek open.” Abigail instructed.

“I’ve got it!” Esperanza pulled the rifle away from her. They stood there for some time with Esperanza’s finger hovering above the trigger, but she couldn’t bring herself to take the shot.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“I can’t kill it.”

“You wanna eat, don’t you?”

“I’ll try my luck with the berries.” Esperanza tried to slip away, but Abigail grabbed her by the collar.

“Take the shot.”

Esperanza hesitantly brought the rifle back up to aim and her finger trembled over the trigger. Her stomach growled, loud enough to catch the deer’s attention. It blew at her and Esperanza, now without a second to lose, took the shot. She hit the deer in its side, but the animal stayed on its feet and did its best to stagger away.

“Kill it!” Abigail demanded.

Esperanza raised her rifle to take the kill shot. It was moving slow enough that she might land it properly this time but just before she could pull the trigger, Bill Decker emerged from behind one of the trees.

“What smells like hammered shit?” He boomed, and both the girls shouted from the surprise—Esperanza accidentally squeezed the trigger. He approached Abigail and pinched his nose. “I said God damn!” Bill fanned the air, as if that would help.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Abigail asked.

“Someone told me you were after Joseph Bacall.” He replied.

“So?”

“I couldn’t, in good conscience, let you get yourself killed.”

“That might be easier said than done, Bill.”

“You just cost us supper!” Esperanza shouted at him as she beat on his chest. He grabbed her by the wrist.

“Relax, little girl. I saw you clip that deer. It won’t be long before it bleeds out.”

“Go home, Bill.” Abigail said, cribbing the rifle from Esperanza’s hands.

“I didn’t hike halfway through this God forsaken forest to go back home empty handed.”

“Wouldn’t be the first poor choice you’ve made, now would it?” Abigail walked away.

“If we don’t do this together,” he warned, “then I’m afraid we’re competing for the same bounty.”

“Oh, is that a fact?” Abigail said.

“I’m tryin’a help you.”

“We don’t need your help.” Abigail wouldn’t even look at him. “Come on, girl.”

Esperanza followed suit.

“I ain’t followin’ you!” Bill did exactly the opposite. “We’re just headed in the same direction.”

“Oh, cut the crap!” Abigail shouted.

They all heard the strained whine of the creature up ahead. They found Esperanza’s wounded deer laying on the ground, bleeding out from its wound. Abigail and Esperanza approached it, and Abigail drew a knife from her boot. She handed it to her.

“Finish what you started.” Abigail told her.

Esperanza took to her knees beside the deer and held the knife to the animal’s throat. Her hands trembled as she stared into its eye.

“The longer you wait, the more it’ll suffer.” Abigail told her. Jules whimpered.

Esperanza pressed the tip of the knife to the deer’s throat, but she didn’t have the strength to go through with it. Bill stomped over to her, took the knife and finished the deer off himself.

“What the hell are you doing?” Abigail shouted.

“You said it yourself, no point in making the thing suffer!” He said.

“That ain’t the point! She ain’t gon’ learn if someone else’s picking up after her.”

“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not even here.” Esperanza said, but Abigail and Bill were too caught in the heat of their argument to pay her any mind.

“It’s done.” Bill said. “Probably best to make camp here so we don’t have to drag this thing.” Abigail bit her tongue while Bill started to skin the deer for what it was worth. Esperanza, watching the scene unfold, could barely stand the sight of it.

“Good lord.” She squealed.

“Do us a favor and make a campfire, would ya, girl?” Bill asked Esperanza. Any opportunity that kept her attention from the gore unfolding before her was a welcome one, so she did just as he asked. She’d finished drawing the fire just as he wrapped up slicing a few slabs out of the deer. They roasted the meat over the open flames.

Bill handed a piece of cooked meat to her, who wasted no time ripping it out of his grasp and proceeded to chow down. Bill held out a piece to Abigail, who hesitated to take it. He shook the slab in her direction and she begrudgingly took it from his hands. She took a small bite, but as her stomach began to demand more, she couldn’t help but keep up with the rest of them.

“How did you even find us?” Esperanza asked.

“You two don’t do a very good job of hiding your tracks.” He said.

“We weren’t trying to.” Abigail said.

“I’d be surprised if you were!” Bill bit off enough to feed the three of them.

“What could we have done better?” Esperanza asked him.

Abigail shot her a look, they didn’t need him at all, let alone his advice but she held her tongue and continued to eat.

“You could try circling back into your own tracks. That’s liable to throw most anyone for a loop.” He said. Jules’s whimper caught Bill’s attention. “This ain’t for you, ya mutt.” He told her, but Jules’s gaze remained unbroken, filled with hope that the big scruffy human might bless her with a share of the spoils. Bill groaned as he got up and walked back to the deer. He reached into its sliced open chest and ripped off a rib. “Here.” He threw down the rib. It didn’t have a chance to hit the ground before Jules caught it. Bill laughed.

When they set out the next morning, it wasn’t but a few hours before they arrived at Pike’s Basin. They stood atop a massive cliff edge and looked down on what may have been a raging river many centuries ago but was nothing more now than dirt and a few scant trees, save for the tiny shack dwarfed by its rocky surroundings below. They spotted half a dozen horses hitched outside as smoke billowed out the chimney.

“This is it.” Bill said.

That was enough for Abigail.

“How do we know that’s them down there?” Esperanza asked.

“All things considered? We don’t.” Bill replied.

“We ought to make sure we know who we’re dealing with.” Esperanza said.

“I don’t disagree with ya, little missy. But with a band of killers, it ain’t so simple as knocking on the door and askin’ who’s home.”

“How else would you know?” She asked.

“We’ve gots to be careful, is all. Ain’t no way of knowing if they’re the type to shoot first and ask questions later.” As he turned his attention back to the shack at the bottom of the basin, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Someone was approaching the cabin. He looked back up, only to realize that only Esperanza and Jules were beside him. Abigail, it seems, had gone ahead.

“What the hell is she doing?” He muttered. They watched from afar as Abigail planted her feet in the ground outside the shack.

“Joseph Bacall!” She shouted, her call echoing throughout the chasm.

“Who’s askin’?” A voice called out from the shack.

“I don’t recall askin’ nothing!” She said.

“You after that bounty, aren’t ya?” He, who she could only presume was Joe, asked.

“That’s right.”

“I’ll give you one chance to turn around! It ain’t ended too well for the other folks that tried.” She looked down at the ground, to the three rotting corpses that laid face down in the dirt outside the shack.

“I see.” She said. “Tell ya what, I’ll give you one chance.”

“One chance for what?”

“To die on your feet like a man.” The whole time they’d been shouting at each other, one of the Bacall boys was lining up his shot with a long rifle, out the front window of the shack. As he readied to pull the trigger, sunlight hit the silver tip of his rifle. The glint caught Abigail’s eye. She was quick to draw her pistol, and she fired.

“This girl’s got a death wish!” Bill shouted as he ran down into the gully after her. Esperanza and Jules trailed behind him.

Abigail pressed forward, toward the shack, as bullets blasted out from within it and flew past her. She managed to shoot dead the gunner in the window, as well as the poor soul that emerged out the front door with a rifle in hand who didn’t let off so much as a single shot before he fell dead to the ground. She reloaded her pistol as she stomped onto the porch, and once all six shots were loaded, she kicked down the door and blasted away at everyone inside. By the time Bill and Esperanza finally made it all the way down to the shack, she’d made quick work of the entire Bacall gang.

“Good lord, Abigail.” Bill said.

“What was that about getting myself killed?” She asked him as she dragged one of the bodies out of the shack and into the dirt.

“When you’re right, you’re right.” Bill said. He assisted her with dragging the rest of the bodies out of the shack.

“You have a taste for violence, don’t you?” Esperanza asked her as she watched them load the bodies up onto the backs of the horses.

Abigail looked at her but had nothing to say.

The three of them carried two bodies each on the back of their horses, and Bill drug another horse by the reins behind him as they rode back to Ridgewood. They rode through the day and into the night, eventually making it to the sheriff’s station. The sheriff stepped out and watched on as Bill and Abigail dropped the bodies at his feet.

“Well, ain’t that something.” He said as he looked Joeseph Bacall in his glassy dead eyes, piled atop the rest of his buddies. “I believe I owe you a bounty,” he said, looking at Bill.

“Actually, you owe me a payment.” Abigail clarified.

“You?” The sheriff asked.

“By myself.”

The sheriff looked at Bill, who confirmed the claim with a nod.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” The sheriff retreated into the station to collect the cash. When he returned, he handed the stack to Abigail.

“Much obliged.” She said with a tip of her hat. She thumbed through the stack to count it.

“I’d say at least half of that’s mine.” Bill said.

“You didn’t do a goddamn thing!” Abigail shouted.

“I helped you cart ‘em over here, didn’t I?” He said.

“You’re getting two horses! You’ve got more than enough.” She said as she shoved the stacks of cash into her pocket.

Further down the street, Wesley found himself carried out of the saloon. One too many patrons felt he was cheating at cards, and so he was no longer welcome inside. After cursing the owner to high hell, he lit a cigarette and grumbled to himself. He took a drag as Abigail’s argument with Bill echoed down the street. He thought nothing of it at first, but his attention was fully captured when he saw them approaching the stable, with Esperanza behind them.

“I guess this is where we part ways.” Bill said as he led the last of his new horses into their pens.

“I guess it is.” Abigail said.

“Hey, Lil’ Hope.” Wesley said.

The three of them turned toward the front of the stable to see him standing in the doorway.

“Who the hell are you?” Bill asked.

“Her family.” He pointed at Esperanza. “Let’s go.”

“She ain’t going nowhere.” Abigail stepped in front of Esperanza to shield her from him.

“Nobody has to get hurt if we settle this right here and now.” Wesley said.

“We’ll settle this right here and now, but no one getting hurt is a stretch.” Abigail’s hand hovered over her gun.

“You sure that’s how you wanna play this?” Wesley’s finger twitched over his gun.

“It’s the only way I know how.” They stared at each other in silence. Wesley was the first to draw his gun, but Abigail was quick on the draw and she gunned him down.

“Sorry for the mess.” She said, holstering her gun.

“Did you have to do it in here?” He asked.

“Did it look like he was giving me much of an option?”

“Help me get him outta here.”

The two of them dragged the body toward Abigail’s horse, hitched outside. Esperanza watched as they pulled him across the dirt, his vacant dead eyes bore a hole right through her. Wesley would often be the one to talk Colin down from the fit of rage he sought to take out on the girl. It also wasn’t long ago that he’d returned from one of many nights out with Colin, covered in blood that belonged to neither of them. That happened more often than not, and despite what Wesley may have done for her, she had to remind herself of what the lot of them did to her.

Esperanza, Abigail and Bill rode on horseback out of town to a nearby riverbank. They disposed of him in the river, letting the current carry him downstream.

“You best get outta here,” he warned them. “Lord knows how close behind his friends are.”

“Thanks, Bill.”

“Oh, don’t get sentimental on me now.” He grumbled.

“Really. Thank you. For everything.” She hugged him. He embraced her.

“Take care of yourself.”

“Likewise.”

Abigail mounted her horse and rode off with Esperanza. Jules found it difficult to keep up with them as she hobbled in their wake.

“I told you she’d be a problem!” Abigail said.

Esperanza brought her horse to a stop. She dismounted and picked the dog up off the ground and seated her atop the horse. She got back on and they rode, Jules’s tongue flapping out of her mouth with a wide grin on her face as they rode on and the wind blew past them. Abigail rolled her eyes as they continued forth.

Click here to continue to Chapter 7.

You can buy a print copy of this novel by clicking here. The audiobook is also available wherever you get your audiobooks.

The next morning, Esperanza awakened when she felt a forceful jolt to her leg. Her eyes shot open wide to identify the threat. She feared having attracted the attention of a hungry animal, or worse, being spotted by the animals they left behind on the train the night before but when she saw it was Abigail that’d kicked her awake, she quickly relaxed.

“Let’s go.” Abigail demanded, wasting no time at all as she started her march to Ridgewood, whether the girl was ready to join her or not. Esperanza took to her feet and followed Abigail in silence for some time until the quiet was broken by a faint whimper hidden within the trees.

“Do you hear that?” Esperanza asked. The closer they got to the sound, the clearer it became that there was a wounded something nearby. Esperanza suffered from a virulent case of a bleeding heart, and the prospect of a creature in trouble carried her like a wind over the small hill beyond them. There at its base, they spotted a dog with its leg caught in a bear trap.

“Poor thing!” She cried as she approached the dog. Abigail walked up behind her and drew her gun.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Esperanza shouted.

“Putting it out of its misery?” Was it not obvious?

“We’re not killing her!” Esperanza took a knee between Abigail’s gun and the dog.

“It’d be crueler to leave it.”

“We’re not doing that either.” Esperanza gripped the jaws of the trap with as much strength as she could muster, but no matter how hard she tried to force it apart, the tension was too strong.

“You’re wasting your time, girl.” Abigail’s attempt at dissuasion proved fruitless as Esperanza refused to quit, rusty metal digging into her fingers as she tried to free the poor dog. “I’m just talking to myself, it seems,” Abigail muttered under her breath.

“Are you gonna help me or not?” Abigail holstered her gun and took a knee beside the trap. She gripped the jaws and they managed to force it open enough for the dog to slip out and hobble away behind a nearby tree. Esperanza tried to soothe the creature, calling out to it. “It’s okay, girl. Come here.” She extended a hand, and the dog limped toward her. She gave it a pat on the head. “Good girl, Jules!” The dog barked and she laughed.

“Now you’re naming the damn thing?”

“And?”

“I ain’t wasting a second of my time trying to keep that thing fed.”

“No one asked you to.”

“So long’s we understand each other.” Abigail rose to her feet and continued onward.

“Come on, Jules!” Esperanza shouted at the dog, seemingly receptive to its new name. It limped along beside her as they continued through the woods.

The day melted away as they headed east for Ridgewood, finally arriving at the town as the sun was beginning to set. For most towns this far west of the Mississippi, Ridgewood was among one of the more affluent. A local connection to the railroad was mostly to thank for that, providing a healthy clip of people passing through and bringing their business. The town was attractive enough to even get some of those once travelers to become permanent residents, hoping to stake their claim to a piece of the town’s potential economic spoils.

On this evening, Abigail, Esperanza and Jules would pass through its paved stone roads in search of a way to expedite their journey to Tennessee. As they walked down main street, Abigail did the one thing she did most often when she wandered into a new town: hit the saloon. This time, as opposed to a more typical blackout inebriation, she would instead be searching for information on tap. The three of them entered the saloon, a label hardly befitting of the place compared to the creaky watering hole Abigail found herself in back in Valentine.

The brick walls towered high, with ornate railing lining the second floor. Upstairs, this establishment played host to various tables at which one could partake in card games of chance. There were at least a dozen people playing at these tables, and that’s just the ones they could see from the ground floor. If drinking was all you were after, then the first floor presented plenty of space for one to indulge in their chosen poison. Live piano echoed throughout from the back of the room, providing entertainment for those who needed an aural stimulant to mix with the alcohol. The three of them were taking in the sight as they entered, but they took not so much as a step before they were berated by the barkeep.

“She’s gotta stay outside!” He yelled.

“That dog’s cleaner than most of the people in here!” Abigail replied.

“The dog, too!” He shouted.

“Let’s go, Jules.” Esperanza said as she exited, the dog following suit. She took a seat on the curb and spoke to Jules directly. ‘How’s your leg, girl?” The wound had begun to scab over, it wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, but she was still hobbling around with a limp. “How’d you end up in that trap, huh?” She asked as she rubbed Jules all over. The dog barked. “Guess we all find ourselves trapped at one point or another.” Abigail exited the saloon, and Esperanza stood as soon as she saw her.

“So?” Esperanza asked.

“Stable’s this way.” She pointed down the street to a wooden building that looked just about ready to be condemned. It was hard to believe a business of any kind ran out of there, and its state of disrepair stood out between the sturdier buildings and livelier businesses that were its neighbors. What they couldn’t know was that the owner chose to spend most of his revenue on keeping pace with his taste for alcohol. So long as there wasn’t a problem with the roof, he was content to keep contributing to the impending problem with his liver.

“This is the place?” Esperanza asked as they approached the building.

“That’s what the man said.” Abigail pushed open the double doors at the front and entered. “Hello?” No reply. Esperanza kept her distance and stayed outside by the door. Abigail looked around, but it was hard to make out much of anything with the little light let in from outside. She could just barely see three horses across the different pens, but no sign of human life. “Anybody here?” she called out. Out of the shadows behind her, emerged a cocked and loaded six shooter pointed at the back of Abigail’s head.

“Is this how you greet all your prospective customers?” She asked.

“Only the ones that deserve it,” a gravelly voice replied. There was something unmistakably familiar about his voice to Abigail, and she turned to find an answer to her suspicions.

“Bill Decker!” She shouted as she disregarded the loaded gun in her face. She pushed it to the side and gave him a hug.

“Get off me, woman!” He yelled, dumbfounded with her cavalier attitude toward having a gun pointed at her. He pushed her off. She pointed to his eye patch.

“That’s new.” She said.

“You know this man?” Esperanza took a few careful steps past the door, but still close enough to the exit to duck out in case things got hairy.

“We used to ride together.” Abigail said.

“That was a long time ago.” Bill holstered his gun. He crossed over to one of the horses. “How did you find me?”

“Not on purpose, that’s for sure.”

“Little Abigail Lambert stumbles back into my life needing something from me. Glad to see some things never change.” He said with a wry smile.

“Can’t say the same for you. You finally got that stable you were after!”

“I don’t know if this piece of shit’s what I pictured—but it’s something.” He took some horse feed in hand and fed one of the horses.

“What would you charge me for two horses?” Abigail asked.

“For you? Nothing.” He continued to the next horse.

“You’d give them to me for free?”

“You misunderstand.” Bill clarified. “They’ll cost you nothing, because I ain’t selling you no horses.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you wouldn’t be able to afford what they cost.”

“Try me.”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“That’s ridiculous! There ain’t no pair of horses on this Earth worth no five thousand dollars!”

“You’re right. Cause it’s five thousand per.”

“Ain’t no wonder this place is falling to shit if that’s what you’re charging.”

“It’s what I’m charging you.” He said.

“Because I’m so special?”

“Because it’s what you owe me.”

“I owe you?” Would he really be so petty? Over something so long ago?

“You promised me ten grand in that coffin, and there wadn’t so much as a dime.”

“That ain’t my fault!” Abigail shouted. He threw the horse feed on the ground and stomped over to her.

“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you where you stand for leading me into that ambush!”

“I didn’t know Sid was gonna follow us!”

“Don’t give me that load of shit!”

“I’ll just buy my horses elsewhere.”

“Good luck with that darling. This may be the shittiest game in town, but it’s also the only one.”

“You’d really leave me hanging dry like this?” Abigail asked him.

“Like you left me holding the bag at Reedy Creek? It’s cause of me you even made it out of there alive, you ingrate! I ain’t so much as heard one thank you out your mouth since you got here!” Abigail stormed out of the stable. “Same old Abigail, always running from shit she started!”

“Fuck you, Bill!” Abigail stomped past Esperanza. “Let’s go.”

Esperanza looked back at Bill.

“You heard her, girl.” He spit. “Git.”

To her, the only thing more fascinating than how miserly this man behaved was the warmth with which Abigail greeted him. Esperanza was under the impression whatever faculty allowed Abigail to feel anything positive had long since broken down, but it was still in there, lying dormant and awaiting the right stimuli to awaken. The point being that beneath the tough exterior, there was an Abigail she’d yet to meet—one that Bill may or may not have known at one point in the past, and maybe, just maybe—there’d be an opportunity to meet her in the future.

“What do we do now?” Esperanza asked her.

“He can’t be the only game in town,” Abigail replied. She looked up the street to a general store and figured she could pop in for a potential lead. Much to her dismay, the shop keeper informed her Bill was, in fact, the only proprietor of horses in Ridgewood, and it would be some hundred miles to the next town if she intended on attempting to buy some there. She thanked him for his time and returned to the street.

“We’re not walking a hundred miles on foot, are we?” Esperanza asked her.

“It’s either that, or we wait for ten thousand dollars to fall from the sky.”

“Where would we even find money like that?” Esperanza asked.

Abigail pondered the thought. It might be years of work to accumulate such a sum under any business in town. It was anyone’s guess as to how long it would take Colin and his gang to roll into town before that ever happened, so she quickly abandoned the possibility. The most expedient way to make such a sum would also likely be the most dangerous, but time was not a currency they could afford to spend much of.

Abigail walked up the street, Esperanza and Jules behind her, to the sheriff station. What she sought wasn’t out front so she crossed over to the side of the building and found the board there. Posted on the wall were more than a dozen wanted posters.

“Tell me what you see.” Abigail asked her.

Esperanza scanned the board for the poster with the most zeroes, but after tallying the bounties across every poster she could see, it wouldn’t be nearly enough for both horses.

“If we caught all of these guys,” she explained, “and then it turned out each of them had a kid with separate bounties on their heads, we still wouldn’t have enough for just one.”

“Well that won’t do at all.” Abigail sighed. “Guess we’re walking.” As Abigail began the hundred mile journey, Esperanza stayed behind at the board; one poster buried beneath the others had caught her attention. She uncovered the handbill.

“Abigail!” She shouted.

Abigail stopped in her tracks and spotted Esperanza back at the board with the poster in hand. She returned to the board, and Esperanza handed it to her. There she saw a drawing of a man with a thick handlebar mustache, but that’s about all she could divine from the poster. She shoved the poster into Esperanza’s chest.

“Read it.” Abigail commanded.

“Joseph Bacall and the Joseph Bacall gang, wanted for murder and stagecoach robbery.” She scanned the rest of the handbill. “They’re offering $2500 for Joseph and $300 for each member of his gang.”

“What’s that all together?” Abigail asked.

“About a hundred bucks short of five thousand.”

“I suppose one horse is better than none.”

“If you can talk him down. He seemed pretty firm on price.”

“You leave that to me. Handbill say anything about where we might find Joseph and his gang?”

Esperanza scanned the handbill once again.

“Last known location,” she said, “Pikes Basin.”

Click here to continue to Chapter 6.

You can buy a print copy of this novel by clicking here. The audiobook is also available wherever you get your audiobooks.

“My gun?” She held out an open palm. He unholstered the gun she was arrested with, the very same gun she’d been carrying since she was forced to run from her homestead all those years ago. He held it out in front of her, but pulled back when she went to grab it. He unlocked the chamber and pocketed the remaining bullets. It was only then that he handed her the gun.

“What am I supposed to do with an empty gun?”

“Suicide mission, right?” The Sheriff tipped his hat to her and rode off back toward town. She holstered her gun and walked the main path toward the house. As she approached, she could just barely make out the men scattered about the property. A couple of them sat on the porch, feet kicked up like they owned the place. Over by the barn, a pair of them exited and approached the house. On the second story, she spotted another with his head poking out, staring her down. He whistled as soon as he could tell a woman was approaching, and the rest of the men followed suit, raising all kinds of ruckus upon her arrival.

“What have we got here?” One of them shouted.

“Oooh, momma! Hello, hello!” said another. The more ‘gentlemanly’ of the outlaws stepped off the porch and crossed over to her.

“Good evening, darling.” He took her hand and gave it a kiss.

“So cordial,” Abigail said.

“What brings someone as fine as yourself up around these parts?” He asked her. Even with her suitor at arm’s length, the air was thick with the lust of every outlaw that surrounded her, undressing her with their eyes.

“I was told there was a gang of men holed up out here.” She said, looking around. She locked eyes with her ‘gentleman’ suitor. “Can’t say I see any men though.” Every outlaw in earshot started hootin’ and hollerin’.

“Well ain’t you a little firecracker?” The outlaw asked her. Abigail leaned in close to him.

“You wanna watch me pop?” She whispered.

“What’d you have in mind?”

She swiped the gun out of his holster and shot him in the stomach! He cried out and keeled over, but she caught him in her grasp and used him as a human shield as the rest of the gang drew their weapons to return fire. She plowed forward, gunning down the outlaws with precision and fury—as if it was expressly what she’d been built to do. She made it to the front of the house, dropping her meat shield and kicking down the door.

Once inside, a pair of outlaws poured in on her left from the living room. She shot them both. Outlaws came in from the room opposite her and she took cover behind a wall. As they made their approach, she popped out from behind the wall to shoot them dead. Upstairs, a pair of them ran down the hall to the stairs but she shot one before he had the chance to make it down. He fell over the railing, landing on an oil lamp below. It wasn’t long before the flames consumed his body and began to spread throughout the house.

She re-entered the foyer as the second outlaw, sporting a rifle, rushed down the stairs. She took her shot and emptied the contents of his skull on the steps behind him. He fell backward, his corpse riding the bloody stairway to hell all the way to the bottom. She approached the body on the stairs and took the rifle for herself. As the fires climbed up the walls to the second floor, screams echoed through the house. The pitch was too high to be that of any man, it must’ve been a woman’s, maybe even a child’s. The adrenaline pumping through Abigail’s veins was enough to dull her hearing to such a thing as she continued her march up the steps.

Out of one of the rooms upstairs emerged an outlaw, which she quickly turned to and shot in the head, painting the wall behind him with what remained of his brains. Another outlaw emerged from a door behind her and choked her with his rifle. Further down the hallway, another one of the outlaws ran toward her, firing in her direction the whole way. She’d managed to turn around the one strangling her, filling his back full of his friend’s bullets. She looked down at her attacker’s boot and noticed a knife sticking out of it. As he lost his grip on both Abigail and his life, she slipped out of his grasp, took the knife from his boot and flung it at the other outlaw—the blade finding a new sheath within the outlaw’s skull.

It appeared the assault was over. She crossed over to the outlaw she’d stuck with the knife and removed it from his skull. She wiped the blood off the blade with his own shirt. She walked down the hall to the room he’d emerged from as smoke filled the house behind her. She raised her rifle, kicked down the door and burst inside to an unexpected sight.

She spotted a young Mexican girl, not a day over 13, with her wrists and ankles tied to the bedpost. Her clothes were tattered, and it was anyone’s guess how long they’d left her tied up here. The young girl couldn’t take her eyes off Abigail’s gun. She lowered the weapon and took the knife in hand as she approached the bed. The girl thrashed but the bonds that imprisoned her refused to break. Abigail stood over her and cut her free. The girl crawled across the bed and took cover behind the side opposite Abigail. She approached the girl and she scurried away toward the wall.

“Stay close to me.” Abigail put away her knife and extended a hand. The young girl nodded and took her hand as she lifted herself off the ground. They left the bedroom, retreating back into the house which was now filled with smoke too thick to see through. They hugged the side wall as its opposite was now engulfed in flames. They ran out down the stairs and out of the burning house, having narrowly escaped before a wooden beam came crashing down onto the porch. Smoke and flames billowed out the broken windows as the girls coughed up a storm.

A surviving outlaw managed to spring out of the house with his gun drawn and he fired at Abigail. She quickly returned fire with a shot to his leg, and he dropped to the floor. He yelled in pain and brought his gun up again but she shot it out of his hand.

“You can’t take the girl!” He yelled through gritted teeth.

“You ain’t really in a position to be making demands.” Abigail said as she towered above him.

“I’m warning ya. If you take her, Colin will hunt you down to the ends of this Earth.”

Without a second thought, she lifted her gun and shot him in the head. Abigail holstered her pistol and walked away from the property as it burned to the ground. She crossed the young girl who stood frozen in shock. She stared at the flames eating away at the wood in all their rage. She grabbed some nearby rocks off the ground and yelled as she flung them at the house. After she’d had enough, she turned toward Abigail, who was already halfway down the hill.

“Where are you going?” she shouted at her.

“Not sure yet,” Abigail replied. “Thinking I might try walking off a cliff and seeing if I grow wings.”

“Wait, you can’t leave me!”

“Can’t?”

“Don’t you understand?” She asked as she’d finally caught up to Abigail, planting her feet in the ground to stop her in her tracks. “God has brought us together for a reason.” Abigail couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, you sweet girl.” She kept walking.

“I prayed every night for God to save me from these animals. To take me back home!” She explained as she trailed behind Abigail. “And just when I was beginning to think he wasn’t listening, you arrived!” It struck Abigail that there was an oddly Scottish underpinning to the way the girl spoke, betraying her dark skinned exterior.

“Well, if it was God’s plan for me to save you, consider yourself saved.”

“But that’s only half of it. You need to help me get home.”

“And where’s home?”

“Just outside of Memphis.”

“Tennessee! That’s at least two thousand miles from here.”

“So you understand why I can’t do it alone.”

“That maybe so, but I’ll pass.”

“You can’t pass on God!” She shouted. Abigail turned on a dime to face her.

“God passed on me, girl! The sooner you learn there’s no one looking out for you, the easier it’ll be to take life fucking you in the way it has already and the ways it has yet to. Now, truly, I wish you well.” Abigail turned and walked away. The girl stood there, flummoxed. She grabbed a rock and chucked it at Abigail, but she missed. She tried again and fell to the ground from the weight she’d put behind the throw. This one managed to hit Abigail, scraping her cheek. She put a finger to the wound and saw red. The first time she’d seen such a thing since she’d started wandering all those years ago.

“On your feet, girl,” she commanded. The young girl stood. Abigail pointed at her to approach, and she did just that. “Clean your face up.” The young girl wiped the dirt and soot from her cheeks on her clothes. Abigail looked into her eyes and saw the shades of memories she’d hoped to forget. “Do you have a name?”

“Esperanza.”

~ ◦ ~

That night in Valentine, the Sheriff snoozed in his chair with his feet kicked up on his desk. His slumber was interrupted when the door was kicked down off its hinges.

“Sweet Jesus!” He nearly fell off his chair from the scare. Two outlaws with bandanas over their faces entered with guns drawn and trained on the Sheriff. “Just who in the hell do you think you are?” He shouted as he stood up. In through the doorway entered Colin McCalister, clad in black with a thick mustache and a red bandana around his neck.

“I’m guessing you’re the ring leader, here?” The Sheriff asked him. Colin huffed and punched him square in the jaw. He dropped like a rock onto the floor. Colin stepped over to him and placed a boot on his head. He winced in pain as Colin leaned down toward him.

“Where is the nearest train to Tennessee?”

“Ain’t but a couple miles!” The Sheriff said, doing his best to cloak the quaking in his voice. “Follow the road due east and you’ll come upon the station, sure enough.” His attempt to hide it wasn’t working out too well.

“Thank you, Sheriff.” Colin lifted his boot off the man’s head, and the Sheriff took a sigh of relief. He turned onto his back, only to spot Colin pointing a gun at him.

“Wait!” The Sheriff shouted as he brought his hands up to cover his face, but Colin shot him dead. The three of them exited the sheriff’s station to find what remained of Colin’s gang, about six other members, atop their horses.

“Wesley!” Colin called. He approached Wesley who mumbled to himself as he counted a deck of cards atop his horse. “Clean ya ears, boy!” Colin shouted as Wesley put away the deck.

“Sorry, Colin.”

“I want you to meet us in Ridgewood.”

“What about the train?” Colin approached him.

“Have I ever led you astray?”

“Colin, I was just askin—“ Colin cut him off.

“Answer the question!” He boomed.

“No.”

“Then get moving.” Wesley did just that as Colin crossed over to his horse. “The rest of ya’ll! We’ve got a train to catch.”

~ ◦ ~

Abigail and Esperanza sat in their seats aboard the train cart as it chugged along down the tracks. There were a handful of other riders on the train tonight, but everyone kept to themselves. Esperanza stared out the window at the dark scenery as it flew past.

“How long do you think it’ll be?”

“As long as it takes.” Abigail leaned back in her chair, tipped her hat over her eyes and did her best to get some shuteye. Struck by restlessness, Esperanza climbed over Abigail and wandered down the train cart. They’d barely managed to catch the last train before it left the station, and most everyone aboard was either keeping to themselves or took the opportunity to catch up on some rest before arriving at their next destination. They wouldn’t sleep long however; the train’s brakes screamed into the night and Esperanza fell to the floor as it ground to a halt. She got up and looked out the window. She spotted a handful of men with lanterns approaching the train. It was hard to tell but it seemed like they were wearing bandanas across their faces. She rushed over to Abigail and shook her awake.

“What’s going on?” She asked in a daze.

“We’re being boarded.” Esperanza said.

“By who?” Esperanza shrugged. She looked over to her side, to the train car closest the engine, and through the window she spotted Colin in the next car.

“We need to get off the train.”

“What for?”

“Cause they’re here for me.” That was enough for Abigail to hop out of her seat. The two of them ducked into the next car. Just as they slid the door shut behind them, Colin and his gang entered.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! I am so sorry to delay your journey this evening, but there is someone aboard this train that is very special to me, and it is my duty to find her.” He announced. As he looked around, his gaze passed the window into the next cart, where he saw Abigail and Esperanza moving into the next cart over. “Much obliged!” He said as he tipped his hat and stomped forward to give chase.

Abigail and Esperanza left another cabin car behind them and found themselves in one meant for storage. Abigail closed the door behind them as Esperanza crossed over to a nearby crate.

“Help me move this.” The two of them pushed the crate in front of the door. Two men smoking cigarillos stared at them as they did it, bemused, a sight far more interesting than the card game the girls had just interrupted.

“Excuse us, gentlemen.” Abigail said as they crossed the cart to the other side. Gunshots blew holes through the door behind them, and Colin began ripping boards off the door to get a look inside.

“Esperanza!” He shouted as he continued to rip through the door with his brute strength. The two girls exited the cart and found themselves at the end of the train. Abigail barred the door shut with its metal bar.

“What now?” Esperanza asked.

“We run.” And run they did, off the train and into the trees.

Gunshots rang out as Colin shot his way through the door and managed to squeeze an arm out through the planks, lifting the metal bar and swinging open the door. He stormed out of the cart, the rest of his gang behind him.

“Search the area, they can’t have gone far!” He commanded. Far they were not, but they ran as fast as they could.

“Don’t stop!” Abigail said. They ran until they could barely manage it any longer, every gasp for air like knives in their lungs and blood like broken glass pumping through their veins. With the gang out of earshot and enough distance between them and the train, they stopped to catch their breath.

“What do we do now?” Esperanza asked.

“Stay off the train lines, for one.” Abigail heaved. “Suppose we head for the nearest town.”

“Where’s that?”

“Ridgewood, I think.” Abigail said as she sat down on the dirt.

“We’re not going now?” She asked.

“It’s the middle of the night and it’s liable to take us a day or so on foot to get there but if your objective is to waste time walking in circles, then help yourself. I’ll wait till dawn.” Abigail said as she turned about on the ground in an effort to find some kind of comfortable position on the floor.

“What about Colin?”

“You’re welcome to stay up all night and keep watch.” She replied as she tipped her hat over her face. Esperanza did what she could to take her up on that, sitting with her back against a tree facing the direction they came from. At least, the direction she was pretty sure they came from—after all, it was the middle of the night and in the absence of light, darkness looked identical from all sides. The first couple of times her head grew heavy from weariness and dropped, she snapped back awake, but it wasn’t long at all before she took Abigail’s lead and dozed off herself.

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