Page 162 of Westin

Click.

The spring engages. The taut wire releases with a soft hiss.

It’s not spectacular. One second, David is there, the next, he’s gone. The panel of fencing springs back, wobbling with a colossal sound that echoes off the ravine. Deacon swears and falls back in shock. Jensen runs to the cliff’s edge and peers down.

I run up through the trees and burst out into the open grass. Deacon holds his arm, but he’s not bleeding. I move past him and come to a halt beside Jensen.

In the swirling water, I see everything I need to see.

Leftovers.

From behind me comes the thunder of hoofbeats. My heart picks up, and I spin around. Jensen scrambles back from the cliff’s edge and pulls his pistol from its holster. Deacon reaches for his as well, but it’s Sovereign who bursts over the hill astride Shadow and skids to a halt.

“Is he gone?” he asks.

“He’s gone,” I say.

Shadow prances, spraying up dry grass and dirt. “It’s too late for Corbin and Vince. They got in the truck and left by way of the state route. I tried to hold them back.”

My mind works fast. I’ve done plenty of jobs where the target didn’t behave properly. It always comes with a moment where I have to think on my feet. I’m used to it.

“We were going to force them off the bridge,” I say. “The one below the cliffs across the state route.”

Jensen nods. “We can’t make it back and get to the trucks in time.”

My brain races. “No, but I can make it there on horseback. The trail cuts straight there.”

Sovereign frowns. “And run them off the road on a horse?”

I shake my head. “No. I can shoot them off the bridge.”

Deacon comes up behind me. “That’d be an impossible shot in broad daylight. You can’t make that.”

I glance up at Sovereign. He’s quiet, heavy brow furrowed. I know what that means, and it bolsters my confidence. Distantly, I hear Jensen’s boots fade as he goes to retrieve the horses from where they stand a few yards away.

“You couldn’t make the shot, Deacon,” Sovereign says. “But Westin can.”

I’m grateful. When I doubt myself, he’s always come through to pick up the slack. Our eyes meet, and he jerks his head.

“I need a lighter horse than Rocky,” I say.

Jensen returns, his black mare in tow. She’s half thoroughbred with long legs. She’s restless, ready to run. Wordlessly, Jensen holds out the reins, and I take them.

“What’s her name?” I ask.

“Godspeed,” he says. “I brought her out here with me when I came to Montana, so you better bring her back, gunslinger.”

I nod, running my hand over her neck. She’s prancing sideways. I know she won’t like leaving Jensen, but she’s aching to run. I check the strap of my rifle and sight and swing up on her, standing to adjust the stirrups.

“Get Rocky from the woods,” I say. “He’ll take you back.”

Jensen nods. I glance up and meet Sovereign’s eyes. Shadow fidgets, restless from the nervous energy.

“Go get them,” Sovereign says. “Don’t fucking miss.”

I can’t miss. This will be the riskiest shot I’ve ever taken with no room for error. If Corbin and Vince leave our ranch alive, we’ll be in for a world of trouble. No, I have one bullet, and it has to go through that windshield and strike the driver, or we’re fucked.

I nod, tensing my legs. Godspeed kicks off, spraying dirt as she heads down the hill.

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