The skies had broken open in the late afternoon, and the red-gold sun was peeking through gray clouds. The roads were still muddy from a brief, warm rain, but townsfolk were making their way up the main road toward the center park where the gallows loomed. Harsh shadows had formed underneath the wood and the circle of rope that sat over the trapdoor. To Emma’s disgust, she saw her uncle walking down the road, shaking hands with people. The men he spoke with often had an enthusiastic grin on their faces while they shook his hand with vigor. The women were more reserved.

More disgusted, she hoped.

The layout of the town made their plan more difficult, but not impossible. The Sheriff’s office, which also housed the small jail, was at the end of the main street on the left. It was surrounded by a slew of random shops – most immediately a general store and a gunsmith – and the building itself was worn with age. Paint had chipped off the walls, and the wood looked weak even from afar: the product of cyclical rain and snowfall, Emma surmised.

They didn’t know exactly how their plan was going to work. Somehow, Emma had to distract Matthew, or whoever was in the office with Luis, while Rose snuck in and let Luis free. The jail was rudimentary in every sense of the term. The only thing keeping Luis behind bars was a well-placed, yet rusty bolt. Escape would also prove to be a challenge. Emma had left her horse at Rose’s house. While it would allow them to more easily weave through the streets without being detected, it also meant they would have to travel on foot once they broke Luis out.

Matthew’s gold Sheriff star glinted in the afternoon sunlight as he continued to shake hands with corpulent, white men. His brown boots were flecked with mud, and his hair was slicked back, though Emma could not tell whether it was from sweat or pomade. He had attempted to grow a beard as well, though with little success. There was not a beard on Matthew’s face, so much as there were some random tufts of hair that stuck out in odd places.

Rose nudged Emma and nodded toward the three deputies that were standing by the Sheriff’s office. They all glared with stern frowns, their hands on their revolvers. Rose had informed her that there was no back door to the office, so they would have to get in through the front door. The entire situation felt overwhelming, but Emma insisted they take it one step at a time: figure out how to break him out, then worry about how to get out of town.

Matthew ended his walk down the street, much to Emma’s glee. It didn’t seem that he had seen her. Or, if he had, she hadn’t noticed it. He was making his way back up toward the city’s center when he saw Rose freeze beside her. She was staring at the door to the office. Emma followed her gaze.

Luis was in chains. His face was bloody and swollen; dark-red and black spots stained his brown skin. He could barely walk; the guards were dragging him forward. Emma wasn’t even sure whether he was fully conscious.

As she watched Matthew approach Luis, anger flowered in her stomach. She touched the revolver by her side. She was a good shot. She could hit a small, metal can at a hundred yards. She had been practicing for ten years, though she had never known for what. She let her hand falter as logic seeped in. She wanted to shoot him right now. Hell, he deserved to be shot, to be blindsided like her father had been. But that would just end with all of them dead. No, she had to figure out another way.

Matthew was pushing Luis’s head to the left and the right. It looked like he was inspecting Luis’s wounds, but then he turned back toward the crowd, which was continuing to grow. He heard her uncle’s voice echoing through the afternoon sky.

“Whaddaya say?” he yelled with cruel joy. “Should we accelerate his sentence?”

A roar of affirmation rose from the crowd like a summer mist. A few of the men pushed their fists into the air and Matthew smiled wide. He turned to one of the deputies and said something that Emma couldn’t hear. The deputies dragged Luis back to the office, slamming the door closed behind them.

“One hour!” Matthew yelled to the sea of people. They cheered in response.

Emma reached out and grasped Rose’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. She felt sick to her stomach as she watched all of these people, some of whom she had probably seen as she entered earlier that day, cheering for blood. She desperately wanted to see the black-eyed man somewhere in the crowd, to catch a glint of his briefcase, or to see his dark suit. She wanted there to be some other explanation, but there was none. There was no supernatural menace here; there was just human-bred evil.

She couldn’t imagine how Rose felt.

“I have an idea,” Rose whispered into her ear. Her voice was calm, but Emma could hear an undercurrent of rage in her tone. “You see that paddock over there?” she asked, nodding to her right.

Emma followed her gaze. The paddock was small in size and only held a couple of horses, but she had a feeling she and Rose were on the same page.

“I do,” she said.

“If we could release those horses out into the street, that would distract Matthew and his deputies for a few minutes. It probably would disperse the crowd, too. We could sneak in, get my Dad, and get out before they even notice something is wrong.”

“Sounds good to me,” Emma said. “How d’ we get him out o’ here?”

“We can either steal a horse, or we could walk him through the forest. If we chose the latter, it’d be about fifty yards, but we could probably do it.”

Emma nodded as she looked at the trees in the distance to her left. There was a small forest bordering the town. She had ridden through it on the way to Rose’s house.

“Is there a horse nearby that we could steal? Emma asked, looking around.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Okay,” Emma said. “If we see a horse, we take it. If we don’t, we’ll make a run for the woods. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah,” Rose said. She pushed a smile onto her face, even though Emma could see, beneath it, that she was the furthest thing from happy.

“I’ll get the paddock, you get your Dad,” Emma said.

With a final hand squeeze, Emma left Rose behind in the crowd and made her way to the right side of the street. People were still happily gossiping, and Emma caught snippets of their conversations. All of them made her want to vomit.

The paddock was easily accessible and, to her surprise, nobody was guarding or watching it. The horses were restless, digging their hooves into the earth, braying, swinging their heads side to side, swatting flies out of the sky with their tails. It wouldn’t take much to get them to run.

Emma looked at the crowd, trying to see through the swarm of people. Rose was nowhere to be found, but internally she knew that her friend was in position.

She turned back toward the horses. One of them was staring at her, its glassy eye connecting with her own. She was filled with an odd feeling of comfort, of warmth and safety. Then the horse looked away, and Emma walked toward the paddock gate. With a simple movement, she lifted the bar and dragged the gate outward.

The horses needed no further goading. The three mares dashed from the paddock, kicking up damp dirt in their wake. As if they had been a part of Rose and Emma’s plan, they ran straight for the crowd. Shocked cries floated into the air, and people dove to both sides of the street as the horses whinnied and ran through them. People were knocked side to side, blood staining the dark soil as they spun to the ground and cracked their faces against the soil. Some arrogant men tried to jump on the horses and gain control of them, only to be thrown back onto the ground. Matthew and his three deputies ran toward the chaos, pushing people to the side as the horses ran back and forth, making loud crying sounds, leaping into the air on their hind legs and then crashing back down on the ground. One of the deputies tried to steady a horse, holding his hands up in the air and repeating whoaaaa as the horse neighed and stared him down. Then a man with a long streak of blood running down his face, emanating from a damp matt of hair on the front of his head, ran into the deputy as he tried to escape. Both men came crashing to the ground with tremendous force, and the horse leapt forward.

Emma made her way around the back of the paddock, working her way behind the gallows. Matthew was still preoccupied with the debacle on the street, so he didn’t notice his niece sneaking around the gallows and running toward the Sheriff’s office.

When she opened the door, a lightning bolt of grief hit her.

Rose was cradling her father in her arms. Blood was running from his head. His face was a mangled mess of bruising and swelling. One eye was so inflated that he could not open it. The other was bloodshot and surrounded by wounds that had been inflicted recently: they weren’t red and raw, but they were still in the beginning stages of healing.

“He can’t get up,” Rose said. Her voice was firm, but exasperated. “I tried to get him to walk, but he can’t. He says he can’t feel his legs.”
Emma stared at Luis, at his broken and bruised body, at his one good eye. It connected with her own stare, and Luis smiled.

“Emm,” he said softly. His voice was weak, but warm. “Emm.”

“That’s right, Dad,” Rose said. “She came, just like you said. We gotta get you out of here, though. Can you walk at all?”

“Can’ fee egs,” he said through swollen lips. “Can’ wa.”

“That’s okay,” Emma said. “We’ll carry him, through the forest like we planned. Once we get to your house, I’ll bring him to a doctor in a neighboring town. My horse is fast; we’ll get there quickly.”

“I want to be the one to take him,” Rose said.

“Of course,” Emma confirmed. “Let’s go.”

She rushed over to Luis, and together they lifted him up, putting his arms over their shoulders. They both gripped him around the chest, and Luis groaned in pain.

“Is that okay, Dad?” Rose asked.

“Is okay,” he confirmed weakly.

As they made their way toward the door, they heard Matthew’s voice soaring over a less terrified crowd. “Ladies and gentleman, the problem has been solved. The horses are back in their paddock, and everything is back to normal. If you’ve been injured, please see the doctor. Otherwise, please stay for the event in forty-minutes.”

“Fuck,” Emma swore under her breath. “Come on.”

They pulled open the door and pushed as much strength into their legs as they could. Luis’s head lolled, and he winced from the pain as they exited the Sheriff’s office and began to walk around the left side of the building. The forest loomed ahead. To Emma, it seemed like it was too far.

They had made it twenty yards before they heard words that made their heart sink.

“Sheriff! Look over there! Murderer’s getting’ away!”

“Faster!” Rose said, and together they began to quicken their pace. The forest was getting closer. The trees seemed to sway as they did their best to synchronize their footsteps.

“Lea me,” Luis said.

“No!” Rose yelled.

“Lea me, Ose,” Luis insisted. “Sa youelf.”

Rose didn’t respond to her father’s words. She focused on the forest ahead, as did Emma.

God, please just let us get there, Emma thought.

Her uncle’s voice came soaring through the sky again. “OPEN FIRE!”

A round of explosions burst from the town, and the dirt around them puffed upward, spraying brown soil everywhere. Rose tumbled, emitting a sudden, pained shout as a bullet tore through her calf. Emma took Luis’s weight out of instinct.

“LEA ME!” Luis yelled.

“No!” Rose said. She pushed herself to her feet, gritting her teeth, and pulled her father’s arm around her shoulder.

“We can do this,” Emma said to her, and they marched forward again.

Rampant footsteps shook the ground. Emma turned and saw her uncle running, leading the three deputies behind him. All of them had drawn their weapons. Matthew was aiming his.

Emma turned to Rose. “Can y’ hold his weight on your own?”

She looked at Emma and nodded. “If I have to, yeah.”

“Do it,” Emma said.

Rose took the brunt of her father’s full weight, staggering, adjusting, and then finding her balance. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

Emma looked at her uncle. At the man who had killed her father. At the hateful man who she couldn’t wait to kill.

“Buy you some time,” Emma said. “Get out of here. I’ll meet you back at the house.”
Rose didn’t argue. She continued toward the forest as Emma reached down and grasped the handle of her revolver.

Matthew’s free hand flew into the air. The deputies slowed and lowered their revolvers. He stopped walking forward as well. The townsfolk had gathered behind the deputies, looking on, watching the spectacle.

“You should have told me you’d be in town,” Matthew said. “We could have avoided all of this.”

“Tell them to go back to the city, and to drop their guns here,” Emma responded. “I don’t want to kill them, but I will if you force me to.”
Matthew took a step forward. Emma allowed it.

“Are you really going to kill your own Uncle?” Matthew asked. His voice trembled.

He’s afraid.

“The last thing we need is further bloodshed,” Matthew said. “I know you were close to Luis, but he killed someone Emma. He killed a man in cold blood. I have to put him down. The law ordains it.”

“If you don’t tell your men to retreat and leave their weapons, I’m going to shoot them,” Emma said.

“Okay,” Matthew said, putting both hands in the air. The sunlight glinted off his revolver as he turned to look at the deputies behind him. “Do what she wants, men.”

The deputies gave him a quizzical look but obeyed. Muffled thumps followed their guns being discarded into the grass. Then they turned and walked back toward the town. Matthew turned back to look at her. He lowered his hands.

“Okay,” he said. “Now can we talk?”

“No,” Emma growled.

With practiced fluidity and lightning speed, she ripped her revolver from its holster, pulled back the hammer, and fired with deadly precision. Matthew’s eyes burst open in shock as a bullet tore through his right hand. Dark blood spurted into the air, and the silver revolver fell away from him toward the ground. A gasp rose up from the townspeople. The deputies turned back in shock but did not return to Matthew’s side. They stood, frozen in shock and confusion.

Matthew turned to run, and Emma fired again. The second bullet tore through his left calf. He fell to the ground, tumbling into the green grass and rich soil as he screamed in pain. A similar sound rose up from the town, and the people dispersed.

Emma closed the distance between her and her uncle, sliding her revolver back into its leather holster. She pulled her knife from the other hip and marched forward.

Matthew turned on his back and raised his hands. Blood streamed down his right arm.

“Emma, please!” he begged. “I’m family!”

Emma reached Matthew. With a single movement, she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him up so his face was inches from hers. She plunged the knife into his gut. Matthew’s face contorted into a mixture of horror and agony as the blade pierced his flesh.

“This is for my father,” she spat.

She tore the knife free and stabbed him again, pushing deeper as hot blood gushed over her hand.

“This is for my mother.”

She ripped the knife back and plunged it into his chest, relishing the meaty thunk that followed. She felt no resistance as the knife entered; the blade had slipped between his ribs.

“This is for my brother,” she hissed.

She tore the knife free again and pushed Matthew back. He wobbled on unsteady legs. Blood was pouring from his wounds, filling his eyes, gushing from his open, shocked mouth. Anger boiled in her stomach.

“This is for Luis,” she said.

She sunk the knife into his trachea. She watched as the feeble man in front of her clutched at his neck, at his chest, at his gut, trying to stop his crimson blood from escaping his body. It took less than a minute for him to crumple to the ground, gagging.

An angered roar rose up from the crowd like mist. Guns were drawn, screams shattered the atmosphere, and the mob ran forward. Emma turned and sprinted toward the forest, refusing to allow fear to slow her legs, even as gunshots peppered the ground and dug into the soil, spitting up bits of dirt and grass.

As she entered the safety of the woods, a heavy weight lifted from her shoulders. The world seemed brighter; the sun seemed more golden; the air seemed sweeter. Even as she ran from the mob, she found she was happier than she had been in a long while.

Next Chapter: Rose