Folks in this town still whispered about Jack Colton, the old soldier who never missed. And Burke was no fool. Then, with a curse, he yanked the rope loose. Sykes stepped back, his knife clattering to the floor. May stumbled forward, her knees weak, pulling Lily into her arms.
They clung to each other, shaking, tears running down their dirt-streaked faces. For the first time that night, they felt a sliver of hope. Jack kept his revolver steady. He knew better than to lower it too soon. Men like Burke only understood the hard edge of steel.
Finally, he spoke again, his voice even colder. “Get out of here, both of you.” Burke spat on the floor, humiliated, but he backed toward the door. Sykes followed, his eyes burning with hate.
Before leaving, Burke hissed, “This ain’t over. You’ll pay for this, old man.” The door slammed shut, the sound echoing like a warning, silence filling the room once more.
May turned to Jack, her voice breaking. “Why would you help us? You don’t even know who we are.”
Jack holstered his gun, his eyes heavy with memories too painful to speak. Instead, he only muttered, “Because someone should have helped my daughter, and nobody did.”
May blinked, unsure of what to say. Lily clung to her sister, whispering through tears. “Are we safe now?”
Jack’s gaze hardened again. He looked toward the door, the words of Burke still hanging in the air. Safe, not even close. Because Burke was a coward, but a coward with power. And men like that never let go.
What would happen when he came back with friends, and maybe the law on his side?
The night outside the saloon was heavy with silence. The sisters held on to each other as if letting go would mean falling back into hell. Jack walked beside them, his boots crunching on the dirt, his eyes scanning every shadow.
They reached the edge of town where his old horse waited. Tied to a post, Jack lifted Lily up first, her small frame shivering in the cool air. May followed, her voice still trembling.
“You didn’t have to save us. Now Burke will come for you too.”
Jack gave a small shake of his head. “I’ve had worse men than Burke come for me, and I’m still here.”
It was true. His voice carried the weight of years, scars of a man who had outlived too many storms. But deep down he knew this storm was not over. When they reached his ranch, the place looked worn and tired, but it was shelter. A single lantern lit the porch, casting long shadows across the dry yard.
Jack led them inside, poured water into tin cups, and set out bread from a cupboard. The sisters ate in silence, too hungry to speak. Jack sat across the table watching them, remembering nights when his own daughter had sat in that same chair. The memory cut him deep, but he kept it hidden behind a face carved from stone.
Finally, May broke the silence. “What will happen when Burke comes back?”
Jack leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “He will come. He is too proud to let this go.”
Then he looked at May straight on. “But when he does, he will find he’s not the only one ready.”
Lily shifted nervously, clutching the tin cup with both hands. “Are you saying you’ll fight them? You’re just one man.”
Jack let out a dry chuckle, one that sounded more like gravel. “One man with a steady hand and a clear conscience can be enough.”