Instantly, the desert spread out far below him, a vast barren landscape stretching from one horizon to the next. Though there wasn’t much greenery to be seen, the world was awash in color nonetheless. The stone glowed rich red and rusty orange, and in places yielded up shades Enoch had no name for at all. A jackrabbit broke from cover, a mile off easy, but clear as could be to the hawk’s sharp eyes.

  A sense of wonder filled Enoch. He’d spent the last five years in the territory, but he’d never seen it like this before.

  “What do you think?” Rafael asked, a little smugly.

  “It’s beautiful,” Enoch said aloud. “Almost makes me wonder why you bother with human form at all, to be honest. When you could just keep flying up there. Away from all the bullshit.”

  Enoch swung back into the saddle, not expecting an answer. But after a long moment, Rafael said, “Did you know Harris’s Hawks are the only raptors that hunt in packs?”

  “I did.” He urged the horse into motion, heading after the black dot in the sky that was Rafael. “I’ve seen it myself, from time to time.”

  “Then you know why it might not be so easy for me to just fly away and never come back.”

  Enoch turned Rafael’s words over carefully before answering. It felt important, the sort of thing Rafael might not share with just anyone. The same way as he presumably wouldn’t have formed a partial bond with just anyone. “I’ve been on my own since I came out here,” Enoch answered at last. “Not to say there’s no one I’m happy to work with, don’t get me wrong about that. But most of my colleagues aren’t much on reading. Especially Austen.”

  “Wait. You’ve read Austen?”

  “A man has to entertain himself somehow.” Enoch grinned, though Rafael couldn’t see it. “I’ve read plenty of others, too. Poe, Mrs. Shelley, just about whatever I can get my hands on and catches my fancy.”

  “Well, who would have thought. A lawman who can read.”

  “Funny, bird.” Enoch settled back in the saddle. “Real funny.”

  IX.

  “I can see the ranch house in the distance,” Rafael informed him half an hour later. “Take a look.”

  Enoch shut his eyes. The view from the air filled him with amazement just as much this second time. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it, before remembering he wouldn’t have a chance to do so. Once the gang was dealt with, Rafael would no doubt slip away and vanish into the desert.

  The pang of loss he felt took him by surprise. After all, Rafael had offered to bond, and Enoch had turned him down flat. The hawk didn’t really want him, and Enoch wouldn’t take advantage of Rafael’s desperation to force something permanent.

  So it shouldn’t have bothered him. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the way the golden light of day’s end had slanted through the window of the shack, draping itself across the sharp slice of Rafael’s cheekbones, finding glints of amber amidst the dark mass of his hair. Of the way his mouth twisted ruefully when he spoke of his past, or the care in his fingers when he’d bandaged Enoch’s wound.

  Or his laughter when he stole Enoch’s coin pouch, curse him.

  The ranch house had faded to the same dusty color as the surrounding area. A creek offered water and pasturage for a small herd of cattle, most of whom had the sense to lounge beneath shade trees at this time of the day. A barn and corral lay to one side of the house, and Enoch spotted an unfamiliar man working with a horse in the corral.

  “No sign of the Bone Gang.” Rafael soared closer, wings barely moving on the hot air, letting the wind carry him. “Only three horses.”

  “Could they have hidden the rest in the barn?” Enoch asked. “The gang knows I spotted them yesterday. They might be worried I’ll return with a posse.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  “Be careful,” Enoch started, but Rafael had already tilted his wings and circled toward the barn. A small opening at the eaves offered a perch, and he landed there.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then they’re gone.” Bitter disappointment coated Enoch’s throat like the dust of the road. “Damn it.”

  Rafael took off again. “Sabot looked to have been hurt pretty badly yesterday. I’d bet good money he’s inside the house, even if the rest have gone off without him.”

  “Maybe.” They had to make sure, one way or the other. “Keep looking. Who else is around?”

  Rafael circled a few more times. Another man was behind the house, repairing a shovel with a broken haft. A third emerged from beneath the trees, where he’d been checking the cattle, and wandered back toward the barn.

  Enoch’s nerves tingled, and he made certain his pistol was in easy reach. “All right. You stay in hawk form, and I’ll go say hello.”

  “You’re going to just ride up and talk to them? That’s loco.”

  “As far as I know, they’re law-abiding citizens. I can’t go in guns blazing.” Enoch urged his horse in the direction of the corral. “That said, I don’t trust a bunch of men I don’t know. Which is why you’ll help keep an eye on them.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting you go in guns blazing. I’m not much on shooting, myself.” Rafael seemed to hesitate. “This might be a good moment to tell you my gun doesn’t have any bullets in it.”

  Enoch gaped. “Wait a minute. I could have arrested you the day you got the drop on me!”

  Laughter tingled through the bond. “You could have tried, brujo. I’m still faster than you.”

  Enoch cursed him, though without heat. He couldn’t help but be impressed by Rafael’s sheer daring, pulling off a string of robberies with an unloaded gun.

  The bulk of the barn concealed Enoch until he was almost at the corral. “Hello!” he called in a friendly voice as he rode up. “I’ve gotten a bit lost, friend. Can you—”

  The man squinted at him—then swore. “Allen! Lonnie! It’s the lawman as shot Neil!”

  X.

  The man at the corral drew his gun. Shouts rang out from the direction of house and field.

  Enoch swore and hauled his horse around, putting the barn between himself and the men. Drawing his gun, he called, “I’m with the US Federal Marshals, Magical Law Enforcement! I just want to talk.”

  The only answer was a bullet striking the earth only a few feet away.

  Damn it.

  Enoch put his heels to his steed’s sides and raced out from behind the barn. He leveled his pistol and fired back at the man in the corral, even though he knew the shot had almost no chance of hitting anything. He missed, but at least forced the fellow to plaster himself up against a fence post.

  The man—Lonnie or Allen—who’d been checking the cattle came into view, face flushed. At the same time, the last man rounded the corner of the house. Both had guns drawn.

  Not good odds.

  A rufous streak fell from the sky behind the man coming from the direction of the house. At the last instant, Rafael shifted into human form and crashed into his back, bearing him down to the ground. There was a second of shouting and confusion—then Rafael shoved the barrel of his gun against the back of the other man’s head.

  “Drop your weapons, or I’ll pull the trigger!” he shouted.

  It worked. Both of the other men paled, making Enoch wonder if they were all brothers. They had a similar enough look. Their guns hit the ground without argument.

  “All right,” Enoch said. He urged his horse to the corral, looping the reins over the fence. Dismounting, he grabbed a lariat hanging by the gate. “Now come over here, hands out. One wrong move, and my partner there will see what the inside of your friend’s head looks like.”

  It was an empty bluff, but neither man knew it. “Don’t hurt him,” one said hastily, holding out his hands.

  Enoch made short work of tying them up. “I’m looking for Neil Sabot,” he said. “Is he still here?”

  The man’s mouth thinned unhappily. “Yes. But he’s bad hurt. Thanks to you.” He followed up with a stream of insults that Enoch ignored.

  “I don’t mean to make him worse. I just want to talk to him.” Enoch made sure they were secure, then turned toward Rafael. “Let him up, nice and—”

  A woman stepped out from behind the house, the shotgun in her hands pointed directly at Rafael.

  “Look out!” Enoch shouted. He brought his gun up, firing in the direction of the woman even as Rafael rolled out of the way.

  She pulled the trigger, but Rafael was gone, and the blast caught the man he’d subdued in the legs. He screamed and flailed, and the woman let out a shriek of her own.

  “Lonnie!” She ran to him. “Christ, son, I didn’t mean it!”

  “Ma shot Lonnie,” gasped the man who must be Allen. “He’s going to die!”

  Enoch strode toward the fallen man. “Put down the shotgun, Mrs. Sabot,” he ordered.

  She wavered visibly, and Enoch firmed his grip on his pistol. “I think your family’s suffered enough today, don’t you, ma’am?”

  Tears streaming down her face, she set aside the shotgun. Rafael instantly snatched it up.

  “Just let me tend to my boy,” she said.

  Enoch inspected the shredded flesh of the man’s lower legs. The shotgun pellets had done quite a bit of damage, and Lonnie must be in immense pain, but he didn’t seem in danger of bleeding out in the next few minutes. “I don’t think so. We’ll tie you up, then we’ll see about Lonnie here.”

  They herded Mrs. Sabot to the corral and bound her beside her other two sons. After making sure Lonnie was completely disarmed, they tied his hands behind his back and left him where he’d fallen. Enoch cut off Lonnie’s shirt and used it to quickly wrap the worst of the injuries.

  “That ought to keep most of the blood in him,” Enoch said to Rafael. “Now for Neil.”

  Rafael’s brows lowered slightly. “One of us should stay out here and guard the rest. But I don’t like the thought of you going in alone.”

  Enoch drew the pistol he’d holstered while ministering to Lonnie. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. You just make sure none of them get up to any trouble.”

  Rafael nodded, though he didn’t look happy about it. “Shout if you need me.”

  Enoch threw open the door to the small ranch house, gun aimed inside. But the living space was empty, just a worn table with the beginnings of lunch set out. Mrs. Sabot must have been in the middle of her work when she’d heard the gunshots. Enoch paused and listened, alert for any sign yet another family member might be lurking.

  The rattle of labored breathing sounded from a half-open door. Enoch went to it and stepped inside.

  The bedroom was sparsely decorated, with a large cross on the wall, a chair with a family Bible sitting on it, and a bed. The man on the bed was almost as pale as the counterpane stretched over him. Blue tinged his lips, and an ugly sucking sound accompanied each struggling breath. Bandages swathed one side of his head, as well as the arm and hand on that side.

  When Enoch stepped inside, the man opened a pair of watery blue eyes. “You’re the fucker as shot me.”

  “Enoch Bright, Deputy US Federal Marshal, Magical Law Enforcement Division.”

  “A Hexas Ranger. Just my luck.” Sabot swallowed laboriously. “I heard gunfire, just now. Did you kill my brothers, too? My ma?”

  “They’re fine.” The Bone Gang—this man—had slaughtered a marshal and her posse. People Enoch had ridden with on occasion. Good men and women, dead and moldering in the ground thanks to Neil Sabot and his rotten friends. Given that, he found he couldn’t summon up much in the way of regret over Sabot’s impending death. “Where are the rest of your gang, Sabot?”

  “Go to hell. I ain’t telling you.” A wracking cough seized Sabot, and agony twisted his face. His mouth opened, as if he wanted to cry out, but couldn’t do anything but cough. When the fit passed and he fell back, blood speckled his lips. “I might be dying, but I won’t tell a lawman nothing.”

  “You haven’t heard my offer yet.” Enoch put away his gun. “I’m guessing either you’ve run through all the pain hexes your ma had on hand, or she was too poor to afford any to start with. I’ve got some in my saddle bags. They won’t save your life, but they will make your passing easier.”

  Sabot licked his bloody lips. “Go to hell.”

  “If you tell me the Bone Gang’s plans, I’ll also forget about the fact your ma and brothers aided and abetted wanted criminals.” Enoch folded his arms over his chest. “Let alone tried to murder an officer of the law. Stay silent and I’ll be back with a posse to arrest all of them. Even if the courts decide to let your ma go, on the theory she was just protecting her sons, she’ll lose the ranch to the lawyer’s fees.” Enoch paused to let the threat sink in. “Is that what you want? Your brothers in jail, your ma with no roof over her head?”

  “Fuck you,” Sabot snarled. He might have cursed more, but another bout of coughing came over him. When it finally finished, he fell back against the pillows.

  “I want your word,” he said. “If I tell you what Mason’s aiming to do, you walk away and leave my family alone.”

  Enoch nodded. “You have my word.”

  XI.

  “So they really mean to rob a train?” Rafael asked as they settled around the campfire that evening. “That’s ambitious, even for Mason Bone.”

  They’d untied Mrs. Sabot, given her Enoch’s pain hexes, and then high-tailed it out of there before she could release any of the brothers who might be inclined to revenge. Rafael kept a lookout from above for anyone following them, but it seemed the Sabot clan had decided not to push their luck any further. While they traveled, Enoch gave Rafael the basics of what Sabot told him.

  Enoch tended the horse, while Rafael built a small campfire and heated some frijoles and tortillas. Cowboy fare, but it would keep their bellies full. Coyotes yipped and called in the distance. The sky stretched velvety black overhead. Enoch drew a deep breath of the night air that smelled of mesquite and the smoke of their fire.

  “That’s what Sabot said, and I don’t see why he’d lie. Sending me to chase my tail would only bring me back on his ma later.” Enoch left the horse and sat down by Rafael.

  “When and where is this train they mean to rob?” Rafael passed Enoch a tortilla.

  “Tomorrow is the when, and the one o’clock train from Bitterwood to Resurrection Ridge is the where. According to Sabot, it’s carrying the payroll for the silver mine in Resurrection Ridge. Tens of thousands of dollars.”

  “That’s a lot of money.” Rafael frowned. “It’ll be in a safe, behind both hexes and locks. They must have some kind of plan.”

  “Or a man on the inside, the way they did with the bank.” When Rafael looked away quickly, Enoch winced. “I’m sorry. You said he was a friend.”

  “He was.” Rafael sighed. “Just a naïve young man who thought the life he had was too constrictive. I’m sure working with outlaws sounded very glamorous to him.”

  Something about the wistfulness in his tone made Enoch ask, “Were you…?”

  “Sí.”

  No wonder Rafael had been willing to bond in order to get revenge. “I’m sorry.”

  Rafael shrugged, a ripple of graceful movement. “So am I. You were talking about the train.”

  “Right. According to Sabot, they’ll board the train in Bitterwood. They’ll all be disguised as ordinary travelers.”

  A frown creased Rafael’s handsome face. “And then what?”

  “I assume they’ll wait until they’re between stations to make their move. Sabot didn’t seem clear on the details.” Enoch finished off his dinner and licked his fingers. “By that time, he was coughing up a fair amount of blood. I don’t know if he was clear on very much of anything other than drowning in his own fluids.”

  “Hell of a way to go.”

  “True enough.” Enoch hesitated. The firelight gilded Rafael’s handsome face, flames reflected in his burnt umber eyes. “With every robbery, you risk going the same.”

  Rafael let out a soft snort. “Are you going to talk me into abandoning my wicked ways?”

  “No sense in not trying, so long as I’ve got your attention.”

  Rafael leaned back, stretching out long, denim-clad legs. “What about you? Chasing down hardened criminals isn’t exactly conducive to a long life.”

  “I suppose not.” Enoch stretched out as well, so their legs almost, but not quite, touched. The stars burned above them, too many to count. An owl hooted a mournful note, then fell silent. “My brother is a cowboy, and my sisters married cowboys. One of them teaches at a school, while she waits for him to come back from the trail.”

  “Not the life for you?” Rafael shifted his leg, so his ankle pressed against Enoch’s. “The cowboy part, I mean.”

  Enoch’s heart began to beat faster. The heat of the day had vanished with the sun, the air crisp and cool everywhere except where Rafael touched him. “No. Herding cattle, working a ranch, day after day…and no one is going to promote a black man to foreman, so the best I could hope for was someday running the chuck wagon. So I took the test for witch potential and scored high. There aren’t many immediate jobs for a witch with no familiar, so I signed on with the US Marshals. The pay is nice, and I get to travel and meet people.” He turned his head to look at Rafael. “I met you.”

  A challenging little smile played across Rafael’s lips. “Is that a good thing, brujo?”

  “It’s had its moments,” Enoch allowed. “What do you think?”

  “I think we’ve spent too much time talking, and not enough time doing other things we might.”

  Rafael’s eyes gleamed wicked and hot in the firelight. There’d been something between them from the moment they’d met, when the familiar hadn’t hesitated to look Enoch up and down. Still.

  “What about the teller the gang killed?” Enoch asked. He didn’t want to take advantage of a grieving man.

  Rafael wound strong fingers in Enoch’s coat, tugging him closer. “It wasn’t like this.”

  “And what is this?”

 

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