Page 55 of Cowboy Mountain Man

I move.

His gun goes off. The shot cracks through the clearing as I holster my pistol and slam him into the doorframe. I don’t need him dead. I need him talking. I drive his wrist against the wood. Once. Twice.

His fingers open. The pistol drops into the mud. He throws his other fist into my injured shoulder. Pain flares white.

I keep hold of him. He reaches toward his belt. I catch the movement, turn his arm, and drive him facedown onto the threshold.

His head strikes the plank. He stops fighting for a second. Long enough. I put my knee between his shoulders and wrench his wrist behind him. “Move again,” I tell him, “and you’ll break it.”

He moves. I increase the pressure, and he cries out then lies still.

“Hope.”

“I’m here.”

“Grab the gun.”

“Done.”

I hear her breathing. Fast. But close. Alive.

I take the restraints from my belt and secure Pike’s wrists. He spits dirt. “You broke my⁠—”

“Hope. Are you hit?”

“No.”

I look up.

She stands against the workbench, pistol clutched in both hands, extinguisher at her feet. Her sweater has a tear near the hem. I look at it too long.

“Bullet caught the wood,” she says. “I’m okay.”

Behind me, an engine revs. The second man. I turn, keeping Pike pinned. A dark pickup appears beyond the mine entrance, coming along the service path.

For one second, I think the driver will stop. Then he sees me. Sees Pike on the ground. The truck reverses hard.

A voice shouts from the trees. “Sheriff’s department! Stop the vehicle!”

Alden steps onto the path with Ellis beside him. The driver brakes. Two more deputies come into view behind the truck. No way forward. No way back.

Hope’s photographs gave them the road. Her warning gave us the shed. Now there’s nowhere left to go.

I look down at Pike. “It’s over.”

Ellis takes custody of him. I don’t watch.

Hope sets the pistol on the bench. Her hands are shaking so badly it rattles against the wood.

I go to her. She looks at my face. Then my shoulder. “Harlan⁠—”

I pull her against me. She lets out a broken little breath and grips my jacket. I hold the back of her head. My other arm closes around her waist. For several seconds, I can’t say anything. I’m too busy feeling her breathe.

“I knew you’d understand,” she whispers.

“I did.”

“The mine.”