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Writer's pictureMark Sanders

Chapter 30: Burn

Blogtober 2020 Day 30 Entry

Gray saw the smoke before he could see the bridge or the fire, and by the time it came into view, all the marshals could do was sit and watch it burn.

They heard gunfire from across the river. Two figures on horses, one in red with a black vest, the other in blue plaid, both wearing white ten-gallon hats, stood atop Pawnee Rock. The riders fired their revolvers in the air several more times, then they rode out of sight, their laughter resonating above the roar of the burning bridge.

“What do we do now?” Carter asked.

“They’ll be halfway to Colorado or Nebraska by the time we cross this river,” Gray said. “We ride to Wichita and telegraph the marshals there to be on the lookout.” He turned the wagon around and rode back the way they came.

Storm and Black Oak did as the first two braves had done, discarding their white disguises for their native clothing. No one paid them any mind as they returned to their village, as they avoided white towns and stayed in the open.

The ride took them three days, and when they arrived home, all the people were waiting for them, with Meadow standing out in front of them all.

“Did they get away?” she asked.

“Yes,” Storm said. “The river should bring them here by tomorrow.”

“I’m going to wait for them,” she said.

“We will come with you,” Storm said. “I will tell you how well your plan worked.”

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