Chapter 41

• Before the mournful cry of the coyote could resound once more in the cold desert air, three shadows_ silent as phantoms_, glided into the embrace of the night. In the dim glow of a solitary window, the house seemed to watch them with a single, unblinking eye, as if it sought to unravel their hidden designs. But Nightfall, the swift black stallion, led the charge with a grace that bordered on the supernatural, the loyal wolf running ahead like a living omen. In that moment, these three forms, the man, the horse, and the wolf, were loosed into the vast void of the mountain-desert, guided solely by the unyielding will of their master. They moved as one_ a single entity, where the wolf served as eyes, the horse the powerful body, and the man the calculating brain and fateful hand that struck without mercy.
• No intricate plan had been devised for Ricky’s rescue or for the obliteration of Cole Grimwood. All that was known was that the long riders must be found at once, and that their whereabouts would be learned from Lucas, the bearer of hidden truths. With purpose heavy in his heart, the rider slowed as he neared the sheriff’s hotel_ a structure that still burned with life in its dining-room windows, where the fire of human ambition and anxiety mingled with the aroma of a late supper. It seemed likely that the host remained entrenched at his table, deep in conversation with his comrades, yet there was something uncanny about the lateness of their meal, as though the night itself had cast a spell of sleepless vigilance over them.
• Hoping to catch Lucas unawares, the rider resolved to take his chance in the midst of a throng of men. With Grim Fang slinking silently at his heels, he advanced softly across the porch and tiptoed through the front room, each step measured and fraught with the tension of a man on a mission. The dining-room door stood wide open, and inside a dozen men were gathered around a long table. At its head sat the sheriff, his face reddened with the fervor of a long-winded speech, his voice low and earnest as he brandished a clenched fist so violently that his flabby cheeks quivered with the effort of his passion.