Silas Crowe had once been the closest thing Caleb Mercer had to family.
That was the truth Caleb hated most.
At eighteen, Caleb had been alone, hungry, and angry at a world he believed had taken everything from him.
Silas found him outside a saloon in New Mexico after Caleb had been beaten nearly unconscious by three drovers.
Silas fed him.
Gave him work.
Taught him to shoot accurately from horseback.
Taught him to read tracks.
Taught him how to survive.
And slowly taught him something else.
How easy it was to become cruel when cruelty was rewarded.
At first, Silas's gang robbed men who could afford losing money.
Payroll wagons.
Crooked cattle buyers.
Merchants known for cheating ranch hands.
Caleb told himself there was justice in it.
Then the targets changed.
A farmer.
A stagecoach.
A family traveling west.
Silas stopped pretending they were anything except thieves.
Caleb should have left then.
He didn't.
That failure had followed him ever since.
Elena watched Caleb from beside the post.
Silas seemed to enjoy the silence.
"She deserves the rest," he said.
Caleb's jaw tightened.
"Leave her out of this."
"She is the reason you're here."
"No. You are."
Silas grinned.
"There he is. Been wondering whether that boy was still buried somewhere inside the tired cowboy."
One of the outlaws stepped behind Caleb and took his rifle.
Another removed his revolver.
Caleb didn't resist.
There were at least eleven men visible now.
Possibly more.
His odds had gone from poor to suicidal.
Silas took Caleb's revolver and inspected it.
"Still carrying this old thing?"
"It works."
"You always were sentimental."
Silas tossed it toward another man.
Elena spoke.
"What does my father have to do with him?"
Silas looked at her.
"More than you've been told."
"Don't," Caleb warned.
Silas laughed.
"Still trying to protect everybody?"
He crouched near the fire.
"Eight years ago your father and Caleb met."
Elena looked at Caleb.
Caleb stared at Silas.
"That's enough."
"No, I think she should hear it."
Silas's smile vanished.
"We were moving stolen rifles south. Good rifles. Government issue. Worth a fortune."
Caleb's stomach tightened.
Silas continued.
"Problem was, some of those rifles were headed to men who intended to use them against Apache families. And young Caleb here suddenly discovered a conscience."
"That's not how it happened."
"Isn't it?"
"No."
Caleb looked at Elena.
"We didn't know who the buyer was when we took the shipment."
Silas rolled his eyes.
"Always details."
"When I found out, I tried to stop the sale."
"You stole from me."
"I stole stolen rifles."
One outlaw laughed before noticing Silas wasn't amused.
Caleb continued.
"I took the wagon and rode through the night. Your father's scouts found me before Silas did."
Elena's eyes widened.
"My father knows you."
"Yes."
"Why didn't he say?"
"I asked him never to."
Silas stood.
"Touching."
Elena ignored him.
"What happened?"
Caleb swallowed.
"Silas caught us near a river."
Memory hit him with brutal clarity.
Gunfire flashing in rain.
A wagon overturned.
Horses screaming.
Apache riders moving through darkness.
Silas shouting Caleb's name.
A bullet striking Silas high in the chest.
Silas stumbling backward.
Falling into the flooded river.
Caleb remembered staring at the water.
Waiting for the body to surface.
It never did.
"I thought he was dead."
Silas opened his shirt enough to reveal an old scar near his shoulder.
"Not quite."
"Why wait eight years?"
Silas's expression changed.
That was the first moment Caleb saw something beyond vengeance.
Greed.
"Because revenge is sweeter when it earns money."
Caleb frowned.
Silas walked to a crate near the fire.
He lifted the lid.
Inside were rifles.
New ones.
Caleb's blood went cold.
Silas said, "History repeats itself."
Elena looked toward the weapons.
"You're selling guns."
"Among other things."
"To whom?"
"Men who pay."
Caleb understood.
"And Nahko found out."
Silas smiled.
"Smart man, your father."
Elena pulled against the ropes.
Silas turned toward her.
"He also knows the canyon routes I need. Routes soldiers don't patrol."
Caleb's thoughts raced.
"So you took Elena to force him to cooperate."
"Initially."
"Then you learned I was near his camp."
Silas nodded.
"Imagine my surprise. Caleb Mercer, wandering into exactly the right place after eight years."
"You made sure Nahko knew I'd be useful."
Silas spread his hands.
"A few rumors. A description passed between traders. Nothing difficult."
Caleb finally understood Nahko's strange knowledge.
Silas had seeded it.
The chief hadn't chosen Caleb by accident.
He had chosen him because someone wanted him chosen.
Elena whispered, "My father suspected."
Caleb looked at her.
"What?"
"When you arrived, he already knew something was wrong."
Silas's smile faded slightly.
Elena continued.
"He wouldn't send our warriors because he believed that was what the kidnappers wanted. But when you appeared..."
"He took the chance," Caleb finished.
"Yes."
Silas nodded.
"And now everybody has played his part perfectly."
Caleb looked around.
"What do you want?"
"Tomorrow, you're going to carry a message back to Nahko."
"No."
Silas gave him a patient smile.
"You haven't heard the message."
"Doesn't matter."
"It will."
He stepped toward Elena.
Caleb moved instinctively.
Three rifles immediately pointed at his chest.
Silas rested a hand against the post beside Elena's head.
"Her father gives me safe passage through the southern canyon and keeps his warriors away for five days."
"And if he doesn't?"
Silas looked at Caleb.
"You already know."
Elena's face remained steady.
"Father won't do it."
Silas turned.
"He will."
"No."
"For you?"
Elena lifted her chin.
"You don't know him."
Silas smiled coldly.
"I know fathers."
Caleb studied the camp again.
Eleven men.
Two horses tethered close to Elena.
Crates of rifles.
One wagon.
Rock walls on three sides.
A narrow exit toward the west.
No obvious escape.
But Caleb had survived eight years by noticing details other men ignored.
One outlaw drank constantly from a bottle.
Another limped.
Two men on the upper ridge were positioned too far apart to see each other clearly after dark.
A lantern hung from the wagon.
Several ammunition crates sat close to dry brush.
And Elena's wrists were tied in front.
Not behind.
Small things.
Sometimes small things were all a man needed.
Silas ordered Caleb bound to another post across from Elena.
Night settled over the canyon.
The outlaws ate.
Drank.
Talked.
Eventually the camp quieted.
Caleb waited.
Elena waited too.
Neither spoke for nearly an hour.
Then she whispered, "You could have left."
Caleb glanced toward the nearest guard.
Sleeping.
"Apparently I'm not as smart as I look."
"You don't look smart."
Caleb almost smiled.
"That hurts."
For the first time, the faintest trace of humor touched her face.
Then it disappeared.
"Was what you said true?"
"Which part?"
"You told my father that if you brought me home, my future would be my decision."
"Yes."
"He offered me to you."
"He was frightened."
"That does not answer me."
Caleb met her eyes.
"No man has the right to own another person's choice."
She studied him.
"My father is not a cruel man."
"I know."
"He feared I was dead."
"I know that too."
She looked away.
"Then why did you come?"
Caleb thought about giving a simple answer.
Because your father asked.
Because it was the right thing.
Because I couldn't leave.
All were true.
None were complete.
Finally he said, "Because once, a long time ago, I needed somebody to do the right thing when it would've been easier to walk away."
"And nobody did?"
Caleb stared toward the fire.
"No."
Elena's expression softened.
"So now you keep trying to become that person."
The words struck deeper than he expected.
Caleb looked at her.
"You always talk this much while kidnapped?"
"Only when the rescue is disappointing."
He nearly laughed.
Then her eyes shifted toward his boots.
"Knife?"
He understood immediately.
A small blade was hidden inside his right boot.
Silas's men had searched his belt and coat.
Not his boot.
Caleb moved his leg slightly.
"Yes."
"My rope is looser than they think."
"How loose?"
She turned her wrists.
Enough to expose a sliver of space.
Caleb looked toward the guards.
"Can you reach the ground?"
Elena slowly lowered herself.
Her fingers searched through dust.
Caleb watched.
She found a pebble.
Then another.
"What are you doing?"
"Saving you."
"Thought I was supposed to be rescuing you."
"You're tied to a post."
"Fair point."
She tossed the first pebble.
It struck Caleb's boot.
The second landed closer.
After several attempts, she managed to hook her fingers into one of the ropes around her wrist and loosen it enough to slide one hand free.
Caleb stared.
"How long could you do that?"
"Since before sunset."
"And you waited?"
"There were too many men."
"Still are."
"I was waiting for one of them to become careless."
Her gaze moved toward a guard who had fallen asleep with his knife exposed at his belt.
Caleb realized something important.
Elena was not simply someone to be rescued.
She had been studying the camp just as carefully as he had.
She slipped fully free.
Then froze.
A man shifted near the fire.
Both waited.
Silence returned.
Elena crawled through the darkness.
Reaching Caleb took almost ten minutes.
She pulled the knife from his boot.
Cut his ropes.
Caleb flexed his wrists.
"Now what?"
Elena pointed toward the horses.
"We run."
"No."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You have a better idea?"
Caleb looked toward the rifle crates.
"Those guns can't reach the men waiting for them."
"You want to destroy them."
"If we run, Silas still has weapons, men, and a reason to chase us."
"And if we destroy them?"
"He'll have men, a reason to chase us, and a very bad temper."
"That is your improvement?"
"It's all I've got."
They moved quietly.
Caleb reached the wagon.
He opened a crate.
Rifles packed in grease.
Beside them sat ammunition.
He glanced toward the lantern.
Then toward a narrow shelf of rock above the wagon.
"Can you ride?"
Elena looked offended.
"Better than you."
"Good."
He loosened two horses.
Handed her his revolver after retrieving it from a sleeping guard.
"You know how to use it?"
She checked the cylinder expertly.
Caleb raised an eyebrow.
She whispered, "Better than you."
"Beginning to notice a pattern."
A voice came behind them.
"Hey."
Caleb turned.
The limping outlaw stood ten feet away.
His eyes widened.
Caleb hit him before he could shout.
Too late.
Another man woke.
"Mercer!"
The canyon erupted.
Elena fired once into the air near the horses.
Animals panicked.
Caleb kicked the lantern beneath the wagon.
Flames crawled through spilled oil.
"Move!"
They mounted.
Gunfire exploded behind them.
They raced toward the western opening.
Silas appeared beside the fire.
"CALEB!"
A bullet struck rock inches from Caleb's head.
Elena leaned low over her horse.
Behind them, flames reached the ammunition crates.
Caleb shouted, "Ride!"
They cleared the canyon.
Three seconds later, the night cracked open.
The explosion shook the ground.
Fire rose behind them.
Horses screamed.
Men shouted.
Elena looked back only once.
Silas Crowe stood silhouetted against the flames.
Alive.
Watching.
Caleb knew that look.
He had seen it eight years earlier.
Silas wasn't finished.
And before sunrise, he would come after them.