The Last Ride
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 9
Night had fallen like a heavy curtain over the small town. Lanterns burned low, windows dark, and the desert beyond whispered under the wind. Rigg moved quietly to Ione’s room, careful not to disturb the few townsfolk still awake. Her green eyes met his as he entered, determination flashing even in the dim light.
“Are you ready?” he asked softly.
She nodded, gripping her crutches with the practiced steadiness of months of recovery. “Ready,” she said. “For once, I’ll move faster than a train can.”
With painstaking care, Rigg helped her mount a waiting horse. Her legs trembled under her weight, but she adjusted, balancing with hands on the saddle, arms strong and steady now. He lifted her fully upright, positioning her properly, and then swung up behind, bracing against her.
The horse snorted, shifting impatiently. Rigg whispered encouragement, and then they were off, hooves thundering against the packed desert road, shadows flashing across the walls of the town as they sped through narrow streets. For a moment, the world seemed to stretch wide, the desert infinite, the wind carrying freedom itself in its raw, cold rush.
Ione leaned forward slightly, gripping the reins, green eyes shining with exhilaration. Rigg’s heart thumped, exhilaration mingled with fear, but there was no turning back. For a fleeting stretch, they were untouchable, alive in a way neither had known for months.
But the town was not blind. Watchful citizens, armed and frightened, had anticipated the escape. Near the edge of town, rifles rose in shadowed doorways. Shots rang out, echoing off the buildings and through the desert night.