Blake Ordle's Arc

Chapter 6 of 6

Blake reached the line shack at dawn. The door hung open. The fire pit held only cold ash. Cole and his men had broken camp in the night, just as the warning promised. Blake stepped inside and pressed his palm to the stove. Dead cold. A full day gone, maybe more. He walked out and stared at the ground, but the wind had wiped the yard clean. He had the den at last, and the fox had already left it. Titus knelt by the corral rail with Rocky at his side. The mini shepherd worked the dirt, nose down, tail stiff. "Two horses went east," Titus said. He pointed. "Two more went south, toward the creek road." He frowned. "They split. Cole did it on purpose. He wants us guessing." Blake felt the old dread rise. Guess wrong and Cole robbed another bank while they chased empty tracks. "Which set is his?" Titus said nothing. He let Rocky pull him along the east trail, then the south. The dog lingered longer at the south prints, whining low. Titus crouched and touched a hoofmark. "Deeper here," he said. "This horse carries weight. Saddlebags full. A man running with money packs heavy." He looked up. "South. The creek road. That's Cole." "The east tracks?" "Decoys. Light riders sent to draw us off." Drew rode up hard, dust trailing behind him. Blake's uncle swung down before his horse fully stopped. He wore the deputy star and a grim jaw. He had ridden out from town the moment Blake sent word. "You find him?" Drew asked. "He ran south," Blake said. "Titus reads it in the tracks." Drew studied the split trail. "Could be a trap. Could be Titus is right." He spat in the dirt. "Which one you trust?" Blake looked at his brother. Titus had never once misread the ground. "Him," Blake said. "Always him." Drew nodded once. "Then we ride south. No sense in half a chase." They followed the creek road through the morning. Rocky held the scent, sure and steady. By midday the tracks turned off the water toward a cluster of low buildings. Titus pulled up sharp. "Fresh tracks." He grinned. "We're closing on him." Then Blake saw the smoke ahead. Not campfire smoke. Thick and black, rising from a rooftop in the distant town. His stomach dropped. He knew that sign. A bank left burning to cover a robbery. Blake spurred forward. He had chosen right. The trail was Cole's, the direction true. But Cole had used his head start well. He'd struck a new town before Blake could close the gap. The cold shack was solved. Now a fresh crime burned ahead, and the outlaw was still one strike in front of him.