They rode out an hour later, five riders, on a road that wound south through high desert country, the land empty and vast under a sky so blue it hurt to look at.

They did not speak.

There was nothing left to say.

The mission appeared first as a dark shape on the horizon, growing larger as they approached.

Mission San Miguel, built of adobe and stone, its walls thick and high, designed more like a fortress than a house of God.

A bell tower rose above the main gate, and Gideon could see armed men walking the walls, not monks or priests, guards, hired guns.

They stopped two miles out in a dry wash, hidden from the mission by a low ridge.

This was as far as they could go together.

From here, Tobias would ride alone.

The young man dismounted, his hands shaking as he checked his saddle, adjusted his hat, did all the small, nervous things people do when they are terrified.

Gideon touched his shoulder, waited until Tobias met his eyes, then wrote, “Your sister will be free today.

I promise.

” Tobias nodded, not trusting his voice.

Then he mounted and rode toward the mission, his back straight, trying to look confident, though every line of his body screamed fear.

The others waited in tense silence.

Rosa checked her knife, a wicked blade with a worn handle that had seen use.

Webb cleaned his glasses, a nervous habit.

Aayita sat very still, her eyes closed, lips moving in what might have been prayer, or might have been something older, some Apache ritual Gideon did not know.

Gideon himself felt the familiar coldness settling deeper.

His heartbeat slowed, his breathing steadied.

This was the calm that came before violence, the same calm he had felt at Shiloh, at Antidum, at a dozen battlefields whose names he had tried to forget.

He had hated it then.

He welcomed it now.

30 minutes passed.

Then 45.

Webb pulled out his pocket watch, checked it, frowned.

He should have signaled by now.

The signal was simple.

If Tobias succeeded in opening the tunnel entrance, he would light a lantern and place it in the bell tower window.

They could see the tower from here with Web’s field glasses.

No light appeared.

“Something is wrong,” Rosa said.

Gideon took the field glasses and looked.

He could see the guards on the walls, see people moving in the courtyard, see the chapel where smoke rose from a chimney, but no light in the tower.

Then he saw something else.

The main gate opening, riders coming out, six of them, cavalry, and in the center, hands bound, being dragged behind a horse, was Tobias.

“Doss Mio,” Rosa whispered.

They watched as the riders stopped a hundred yards from the gate.

One man dismounted, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a captain’s insignia.

Even from this distance, Gideon could see the cruelty in how he moved, the casual violence in how he yanked Tobias to his feet.

The captain pulled Tobias’s head back by his hair, and shouted something toward the wash, where Gideon and the others hid.

His voice carried on the wind, faint, but clear.

Hart, I know you are out there.

I know you can hear me, Captain Robert Vance, 7th Cavalry.

You have something that belongs to Reverend Pike, a girl.

You will return her by sunset, or I will hang your man here, and then I will come for you.

” He released Tobias, who collapsed to his knees.

Vance drew his pistol, pressed it to the back of Tobias’s head.

“You have until the sun touches the horizon.

Not one minute more.

” Then he mounted and the writers turned back toward the mission, dragging Tobias with them.

The gate closed.

Silence in the wash.

Then Webb spoke, his voice tight.

It was a trap.

They knew we were coming.

How? Rosa demanded.

Webb looked at Gideon.

Does anyone else know about this? Anyone you told? Gideon shook his head.

He had told no one.

But then he thought of yesterday, of his trip to town, of the supplies he bought, of people who might have been watching.

Aayita stood abruptly.

It does not matter how.

What matters is they have to buy us and they want me.

You cannot go, Rosa said.

If you go, Pike wins.

He gets you back, and we have nothing.

And if I do not go, Tobias dies, and his sister stays a prisoner.

Webb shook his head.

We stick to the plan.

We find another way in.

The tunnels are still there.

Rosa can guide us.

We get the records.

We get the girl.

And we get out.

And Tobias? Aayita asked.

Webb said nothing.

The answer was clear in his silence.

Tobias was already dead.

They just had not buried him yet.

Gideon watched Aayita’s face, saw the war happening behind her eyes, the calculation, the weighing of one life against many, the impossible mathematics of survival.

Then she turned to him.

What would Margaret do? The question hit like a fist.

Gideon closed his eyes, and he could see her, his wife, red hair catching sunlight, green eyes fierce.

She would have ridden straight through those gates.

She would have offered herself in exchange.

She would have chosen mercy over strategy, heart over head every single time, and it had killed her.

He opened his eyes and wrote, “Margaret would save him, and it would be foolish and brave and [clears throat] right.

” Aayita smiled, small and sad.

Then I will be foolish, too.

No, Webb started.

But she cut him off.

I am not asking permission, sheriff.

I am telling you what I will do.

I will ride to that gate.

I will offer myself in exchange for Tobias.

And while they are distracted with me, you three will enter through the tunnels, get the records, get Lucy, and get out.

Then you will use those records to destroy Pike and Vance both.

They will kill you, Rosa said flatly.

Maybe, but maybe not.

Pike wants me alive.

He went to too much trouble finding me to kill me quickly.

That gives you time.

Gideon grabbed her arm, spun her to face him.

He wrote furiously.

No, I will not let you do this.

You do not have a choice, she said gently.

This is mine to make.

She pulled free and walked to her horse.

Gideon followed, still riding.

There is another way.

There is always another way.

Name it, she said, mounting.

He could not.

She was right.

This was the only play that made sense, and he hated it.

She looked down at him from the saddle.

Gideon Hart, you saved my life once.

Now I am saving Tobias’s.

We are even.

Not even, he whispered, the words tearing his throat.

Not close.

Then save me back, she said.

Get those records.

Finish what Margaret started.

She turned her horse toward the mission.

Gideon stood frozen, every instinct, screaming at him to stop her, to drag her off that horse, to lock her in the cabin and keep her safe.

But he had tried that with Margaret.

He had begged her not to go, and she had gone anyway because it was right, and he had lost her.

He would not make the same mistake twice.

He let Aayita wide.

She approached the mission gate at a walk, her hands raised, no weapon visible.

The guards on the wall shouted down at her.

She stopped 20 ft from the gate and called out, her voice clear and strong.

My name is Aayita.

Some call me Maria Cortez.

I am the one Reverend Pike seeks.

I have come to offer an exchange.

Me for the man you hold.

Tobias, let him go, and I will come peacefully.

For a long moment, nothing.

Then the gate opened and Captain Vance rode out, flanked by four soldiers.

He stopped his horse in front of Aayita and looked her up and down like a man appraising livestock.

So the lost lamb returns.

His voice was rough.

A lifetime of whiskey and cigars in every word.

Reverend Pike will be pleased.

Do we have an agreement? Me for Tobias? Vance smiled.

It was not a kind expression.

We have whatever I say we have, girl.

He gestured to his men.

Two of them rode forward, grabbed Aayita by the arms, and dragged her from her horse.

She did not fight, did not resist, just let them bind her hands, and put a rope around her neck like she was a dog.

Then Vance gestured again, and another soldier rode out from the gate, pushing Tobias ahead of him.

Tobias’s face was bloody, one eye swollen shut.

They had beaten him, but he was alive.

“There,” Vance said.

“Your exchange.

Now get out of here before I change my mind and keep you both.

Tobias stumbled forward, fell to his knees, looked up at Aayita with horror and gratitude and shame all mixed together.

No, he managed.

You should not have.

Tell Gideon I expect him to keep his promise, she said.

Then the soldiers pulled her toward the gate.

Vance leaned down from his saddle as they passed.

You know, girl, Pike wants you alive, but he did not say unmarked.

I think we might have some fun with you before we hand you over.

Payment for all the trouble you caused? Aayita spat in his face.

Vance’s expression went cold.

He backhanded her hard enough to snap her head to the side, hard enough to split her lip.

Yes, he said softly.

We will definitely have fun.

Then they dragged her through the gate, and it closed behind them.

In the wash, Gideon watched through the field glasses.

His hands shook so badly he could barely hold them steady.

The coldness inside him was gone, burned away by a rage so pure and hot it felt like being set on fire.

Webb put a hand on his shoulder.

We move now while they are occupied with her.

It is what she wanted.

Gideon lowered the glasses.

His face was blank, emotionless, but his eyes were terrible.

He wrote on his slate the chalk digging deep gouges.

I will kill Vance Pike too.

I will kill them all.

First we get the proof, Webb said.

Then you can have your vengeance.

They helped Tobias onto a horse.

He was in bad shape, barely conscious, but he could ride.

Rosa led them east, circling wide around the mission to where the old mining tunnels opened into a hillside half a mile away.

The tunnel entrance was hidden behind scrub brush and fallen rocks, easy to miss unless you knew where to look.

Rosa moved the rocks aside, revealing a gap barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through.

The tunnels are old, she warned.

Unstable in places.

Stay close.

Do not wander and do not make noise.

Sound carries.

They entered one by one.

Gideon went last, pausing at the entrance to look back toward the mission.

Somewhere inside those walls, Aayita was alone, surrounded by men who meant her harm.

He had failed Margaret.

He would not fail Aayita.

He ducked into the tunnel and let the darkness swallow him.

The air underground was cold and damp, smelling of earth and decay.

Rosa led with a small lantern, its light barely pushing back the shadows.

The tunnel was narrow, the ceiling low, forcing them to move in single file, hunched and awkward.

They walked for what felt like hours, but was probably only 20 minutes.

The tunnel branched and forked, a maze of passages carved by men long dead in search of silver that had never existed in quantities worth the digging.

Finally, Rosa stopped at a section of wall that looked like solid rock, but was actually a hidden door.

clever stonework that blended seamlessly.

She pressed on a specific stone and a section swung inward, revealing a small chamber.

“This was the old chapel,” she whispered, before Pike rebuilt.

“The new mission is above us.

Pike’s office is two floors up, east wing.

The dormitories where they keep the children are west wing.

Lucy will be there.

” Webb nodded.

Rosa and I go for the office.

Gideon, you get Lucy.

Tobias, you stay here.

You are in no shape to fight.

No, Tobias said, his voice thick with pain, but determined.

Lucy is my sister.

I am coming.

Gideon looked at him, then nodded.

He wrote, “Stay behind me.

Do what I say.

” They split up.

Webb and Rosa disappeared up a narrow staircase carved into the stone.

Gideon and Tobias went the opposite direction, following Rose’s directions through a passage that opened into a basement storage room.

The room was full of crates and barrels, supplies for the mission.

Gideon moved through them silently, his gunn, Tobias limping behind.

A door at the far end led to stairs.

They climbed.

The first floor was administrative.

Empty offices, a kitchen, a dining hall, no people.

Everyone was at Sunday service in the chapel.

Gideon could hear singing faint and distant hymns sung in Spanish and English and Apache.

The voices of children blending with adults in forced harmony.

They climbed to the second floor, the west wing.

A long hallway lined with doors, dormitories.

Through one door Gideon could hear crying, soft and muffled.

He tried the handle.

Locked.

He stepped back and kicked.

The door sprang open, the lock splintering.

Inside a room with six narrow beds.

Five were empty.

On the sixth, a girl, maybe 14, dark-haired, thin as a rail, wearing a gray dress that was more sack than clothing.

She looked up terrified, then saw Tobias, and her eyes went wide.

“Lucy,” Tobias breathed.

She threw herself at him, and he caught her, and they clung to each other, both crying now.

a reunion that was equal parts joy and grief.

Gideon let them have their moment.

Then he touched Tobias’s shoulder and wrote, “We must go now.

” They moved back toward the stairs, but as they reached them, voices drifted up from below.

“Guards!” Two of them talking and laughing.

Gideon held up a hand.

“Stop!” he peered down the stairwell.

The guards were at the bottom, blocking the only exit.

He looked at Tobias and Lucy, then wrote quickly, “Find another way down.

I will distract them.

” “How?” Tobias whispered.

Gideon did not answer.

He simply walked down the stairs, his boots loud and deliberate on the wood.

The guards looked up, saw him, and their laughter died.

“Who are you? This area is restricted.

” Gideon said nothing, just kept walking toward them.

“I said stop.

” One guard barked, his hand going to his gun.

Gideon’s draw was faster.

Two shots so close together they sounded like one.

Both guards went down.

One grabbing his leg where Gideon had shot him, the other clutching his shoulder.

Not kill shots, disabling shots, as Webb had asked.

But the sound would carry.

They had perhaps 2 minutes before the whole mission came running.

He turned back up the stairs, but Tobias and Lucy were already gone, heading for another exit Rosa had mentioned.

Smart.

Gideon ran the opposite direction, leading pursuit away from them.

Behind him, he heard shouting, boots pounding, the mission coming alive kicked hornets’s nest.

He burst through a side door into a courtyard.

Wrong choice.

The courtyard was enclosed, walls on three sides, the chapel on the fourth.

And between him and the chapel, blocking his escape, stood Reverend Josiah Pike.

Pike was smaller than Gideon expected, thin, almost frail, his black coat hanging loose on narrow shoulders.

But his eyes were bright and sharp, the eyes of a man who believed absolutely in his own righteousness.

“Mr.

heart,” Pike said, his voice calm, despite the chaos erupting around them.

“I have heard much about you, the silent rancher, the man who lost his wife to her own foolish compassion.

” Gideon raised his gun, aimed it at Pike’s chest.

Pike smiled.

“You will not shoot me.

Not here.

Not in the house of God.

You may be many things, Mr.

Hart, but you are not a murderer.

” Gideon’s finger tightened on the trigger.

Pike was wrong.

He was exactly a murderer.

He had killed at Shiloh.

He would kill now.

But before he could fire, something hard struck the back of his head.

Pain exploded white and bright.

His legs gave out.

The gun fell from his hand.

The world tilted and darkened.

The last thing he saw before unconsciousness took him was Pike’s face, leaning close, whispering, “Now we have them all.

” Then nothing.

Gideon woke to cold water thrown in his face.

He gasped, choking, and tried to move, but could not.

His hands were bound behind him, tied to a chair.

His head throbbed where he had been struck, a sharp pulsing pain that made his vision swim.

He blinked, trying to focus.

He was in a room he did not recognize.

Small stone walls, a single window with bars, a cell, and he was not alone.

Aayita sat across from him, also bound to a chair.

Her face was bruised, her lips still bleeding from where Vance had struck her, but her eyes were clear and fierce and unbroken.

“Welcome back,” she said.

“You have been asleep for an hour.

” Gideon tried to speak, but managed only a croak.

Aayita understood anyway.

Tobias and Lucy got out.

I saw them from the window before they brought me here.

Webb and Rosa, too.

They made it to the tunnels with something.

papers maybe so we did not fail completely.

A door opened.

Captain Vance entered, followed by two soldiers and pike.

Vance looked pleased with himself.

The cat that caught both mice.

“Well, now,” Vance said.

“This is a nice reunion.

The girl who ran, the man who hid her, both right where they belong.

” Pike moved to stand in front of Aayita.

“Maria, my dear lost child, do you know how long I have searched for you? Eight years.

Eight years you have been gone from God’s grace.

My name, Aayita said, her voice hard.

Is Aayita.

Your name is whatever I say it is, Pike snapped, his calm cracking slightly.

I bought you.

I saved you from a life of savagery.

I gave you purpose, and you repaid me by running.

By seducing a good soldier into sin.

Corporal Wade is dead because of you.

Wade is dead because your men shot him.

Pike’s hand lashed out, striking her across the face.

Do not speak unless spoken to.

Gideon lunged against his bonds, a growl rising from his throat.

Vance laughed and hit him, a casual backhand that split Gideon’s cheek.

Easy there, Hart.

You will get your turn.

Pike turned to Vance.

The sheriff and the Mexican woman who were with them, they escaped for now.

But they are on foot in open country with no horses.

My men will run them down by nightfall.

And the records they stole from my office.

Vance’s smile faded.

What records? Pike’s face went white.

My ledgers.

My correspondence.

They are gone.

The office was ransacked.

For the first time, Vance looked worried.

Those records could hang us both.

Then find them, Pike hissed.

Find them and burn them and kill anyone who has seen them.

Vance nodded and left, shouting orders to his men.

Pike turned back to Aayita and Gideon.

This is your fault, he said, his voice shaking now, the veneer of control cracking wider.

All of it.

I have spent 10 years building this mission.

10 years saving children.

And you, you ungrateful wretches.

You would destroy it all.

You did not save anyone, Aayita said quietly.

You sold them like cattle.

Pike’s hand went to his pocket, pulled out a small pistol, a daringer, nickelplated and deadly at close range.

He pointed it at Aayita’s head.

“I should kill you now,” he whispered.

“I should end this.

” “Then do it,” she said, not flinching.

“But you will not because you need me.

You need to break me to prove your God is stronger than my spirit.

That is what this has always been about, not salvation.

Control.

Pike stared at her.

Then slowly he lowered the gun.

You are right.

I will not kill you.

Not yet.

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