The camp changed instantly.

Rifles were loaded.

Horses were saddled.

Silas understood.

They were moving Abigail before dawn.

He looked toward the cabin.

The window of opportunity was closing.

If Abigail reached Strake's ranch, she might never leave alive.

Silas slowly examined the camp.

One guard near the cabin.

One near the horses.

Two men sleeping.

Three drinking.

Caleb pacing.

Silas waited.

He had spent years learning one lesson.

The fastest gun did not always survive.

The patient gun did.

He waited another ten minutes.

Then fifteen.

One guard wandered toward the trees.

The other reached for the whiskey bottle.

Silas stood.

He moved quietly.

One step.

Two.

Three.

The guard turned.

Silas struck him.

The man collapsed without a sound.

Silas caught him and lowered him to the ground.

He took the key.

Then crossed toward the cabin.

He unlocked the door.

Abigail looked up.

Her eyes widened.

"You came."

"I never left."

He untied her.

"Can you ride?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She grabbed her coat.

Silas stopped.

"Why?"

"The papers."

He nodded.

"Where?"

"Inside the lining."

Silas looked toward the doorway.

"Then we get them."

They stepped into the darkness.

For a few seconds, everything went perfectly.

Then a sleepy bandit opened his eyes.

He saw them.

He blinked.

Then shouted.

"THEY'RE ESCAPING!"

The camp exploded.

Men jumped from bedrolls.

A lantern fell.

Glass shattered.

Someone fired a rifle into the darkness.

The horses panicked.

Abigail ran toward the corral.

Silas grabbed the reins of a saddled horse.

"Get on!"

She climbed into the saddle.

Another shot cracked through the night.

Silas turned.

The old Winchester lay near the wagon.

He grabbed it.

Caleb stepped from the cabin.

"Stop!"

Silas fired.

The lantern above Caleb's head shattered.

Darkness swallowed the camp.

Men shouted.

"Where is he?"

"Get the horses!"

"Don't shoot each other!"

Another rifle flashed.

Silas fired again.

A bandit's weapon flew from his hands.

The man stared at his empty grip.

Silas mounted.

"Ride!"

Abigail kicked her horse forward.

They disappeared into the prairie.

Behind them, Caleb screamed.

"FOLLOW THEM!"

Four riders pursued.

Silas glanced back.

"They'll catch us if we stay on the trail."

"Then where do we go?"

"North."

"There is nothing north."

"Exactly."

They turned.

The horses thundered through the grass.

The night was cold now.

The moon was low.

Abigail leaned forward.

She could hear the riders behind them.

"How many?"

"Four."

"Can we outrun them?"

"No."

She looked at him.

"That's not reassuring."

"We don't need to outrun them."

"What do we need to do?"

"Make them believe we're going somewhere else."

Silas slowed.

Then suddenly turned toward a shallow ravine.

They disappeared from view.

The pursuing riders passed without seeing them.

Silas waited.

Abigail barely breathed.

The riders moved farther away.

Then Silas whispered.

"Now."

They rode east.

By the time the bandits realized what had happened, Silas and Abigail were miles away.

Near dawn, one pursuing rider stopped.

He stared at Silas from a distance.

His face changed.

Silas recognized him.

Tom Vail.

A former ranch hand.

Seventeen years earlier, Tom had been a teenager working for an outlaw gang near South Pass.

He had been there that night.

He had seen Silas kill the men who had murdered a family.

Tom had survived.

Silas had let him live.

Tom lowered his rifle.

He did not pursue.

Instead, he turned his horse around.

The other riders shouted at him.

Tom ignored them.

He knew the truth.

The South Pass Ghost had returned.

And he wanted no part of it.

By sunrise, Silas and Abigail reached a creek.

They stopped.

The horses drank.

Abigail climbed down and sat on a rock.

Her hands were trembling.

Silas noticed.

"You all right?"

"No."

"Fair enough."

She looked at him.

"You knew what you were doing."

"Mostly."

"You've been around men like that before."

"Yes."

"How many times?"

Silas looked at the horizon.

"Enough."

Abigail studied him.

"Who are you?"

He did not answer.

"Silas."

"That's your name."

"Yes."

"Not your whole story."

"No."

She waited.

Finally, he said, "Some stories are better left buried."

She shook her head.

"Not anymore."

Silas looked at her.

She continued.

"They're coming after me because of those papers."

"Yes."

"They'll come after you too."

"Probably."

"Then you need to tell me why."

Silas sighed.

"The men who kidnapped you aren't the most dangerous people involved."

"I know."

"Gideon Strake is."

"I know."

"And the sheriff may be working for him."

Abigail stared.

"What?"

Silas nodded.

"I saw one of Strake's men at the sheriff's office yesterday."

Abigail stood.

"Then we can't go to the sheriff."

"No."

"Where do we go?"