“You once told me to watch my back, because the next time you saw me you were going to kill me.” It was Chad, and there was an odd quiver in his voice. He was sweaty and pale, and had a glimmer in his eye that worried Henry, although Henry wasn’t going to let him know it. He climbed out of the rocks and walked toward Henry, pointing a Winchester rifle at his head.

“You son of a bitch,” Henry was indignant. “You shot my horse!”

“Yeah…” Chad ginned. “And I’m going to shoot more than just your horse, you old bastard!”

Henry had finally gotten a hold of the Colt, and unable to get it out of its holster, he pulled the hammer back and pointed the barrel as best he could while still in the saddlebag at Chad, who was standing less than twenty feet away on the other side of the dead gelding. He was hoping Chad would somehow come to his senses and put the rifle down because he didn’t want to have to pull the trigger on the Colt. Looking up at the poor, hopeless kid, it dawned on him that he didn’t want another death on his conscience, even if it was Chad’s.

“I guess maybe you should have followed your own advice,” Chad smirked. “Well,” there was a sinister tone in his voice, “see ya around!”

Chad took careful aim. A lone gunshot rang out, echoing up and down the canyon for what seemed a long time. Then silence.

CHAPTER 48

Jessie had finished working one of her young horses, a delicate black mare she had named Taylor. She was born on the ranch over four years before. Jessie pulled the saddle from the little mare’s back and set it on the hitch rail next to where the mare was tied. She took the time to give the young horse a good brushing, something she relished doing, and then led her to the corral that the gray colt once called home. Opening the gate, she led the mare in, gently unbuckled the halter from her head and turned her loose. The mare walked calmly past her and as she did, Jessie gave her a kind pat on the rump before leaving the pen and latching the gate.

It had been a warm day, much warmer than she had expected, and although it was only two in the afternoon, Jessie could feel it was time for a break. She wandered back to the tack room, and as she pulled her saddle from the hitch rail, she thought she heard a horse whinny from a direction on the ranch where she knew none of her horses were kept. She scanned the desert, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Shrugging it off, she took her saddle inside and placed it on her designated saddle rack. As she was leaving the tack room, she could have sworn she heard another faint but distinct whinny.

She went outside, stopping on the porch and looked in the direction from where she thought the sound had come, but saw nothing. She walked to the middle of the yard, turned a very slow three hundred and sixty degrees as she scanned the desert, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She made her way to the house. Puffs of fine dust rose from under her feet with each step she took, and rather than tracking the dust into the front room, she decided to head for the kitchen porch where she could broom off her boots and jeans before going inside.