Eventually they reached the wagon road that led into Fairplay. It was smoother and wider and less jarring for Ivy on the litter. Even there, Otis’s steps dragged more, until he fell to his knees. “I can’t go on.”

Overhead through the canopy of spruce, Jericho glimpsed a hawk circling in the sky, its long wings spread, revealing the streaked pattern of either a Cooper’s or sharp-shinned hawk. The smoke had thinned, showing the pale blue of the evening sky. Though the scent of burning forest lingered in the air, Jericho had taken them far from the flames that still glowed an orange red over long portions of the range.

He lifted the poles off Otis’s shoulders to give him a rest. The outlaw leaned back against a lodgepole pine. The bandage around his gunshot was saturated with blood. And he closed his eyes, weak from blood loss as well as from the continued battle with his asthma.

Jericho knelt beside Ivy. Smudged with soot, her face was still so beautiful. His chest ached with the need to take her pain upon himself. He sighed as he had a hundred times since leaving the cave. He should have done a better job protecting her, should have warned her not to try anything and to let him make the first move.

Pressing the canteen to her lips, Jericho dribbled in as much water as he could get her to take. Then he handed the leather container to Otis.

The man shook his head. “Let me die, Bliss. It’s what I deserve, and you know it better than anyone.”

Jericho couldn’t argue with Otis. But after how close he’d come to choking the man, he reckoned he had his own struggles that could have taken him down the wrong path too—if not for the grace of God. “From what I learned in the Good Book, we all have sinned and deserve to die.”

“Some sinners—like me—deserve to die more than others.”

“Maybe. Or maybe God’s giving you an extra chance to make your peace with Him before you pass out of this life.”

Otis scoffed. “He won’t want to hear from someone like me.”

Jericho shrugged. “I’m no preacher, but Christ, in the middle of suffering the worst kind of torture while being nailed to a cross, made time to listen to the thief crucified next to Him. If He could forgive that man, He can forgive anyone.”

Otis opened his eyes and stared through the pine branches at the clear sky. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“Reckon forgiveness doesn’t make sense to most people.” It didn’t make sense to Jericho either. It was a whole lot easier to harbor anger. Yet, if God could forgive the worst of them with so much generosity, then maybe Jericho needed to start doing some forgiving of his own, starting with himself.