One of the riders dismounted his mustang, a grim expression across his bearded profile.



o Shit,o he cursed at the gulch, o Didno t know that was thereo ¦o He turned his muscular bulk to face his four men and raised his rough hand to the nape of his neck in an attempt to relieve his stress. His steely gray eyes unconsciously darted toward the threatening gorge, recognizing the sheer danger that it posed and that he and his men had narrowly escaped death. After pausing for a moment to absorb in their instant of good fortune, he heaved his rippling body over his mounto s side to resituate upon the saddle once more.



o Thereo s nothino we can do now,o he growled gruffly while his horse whickered softly under his weight, the great beast nervously stepping away from the gulleyo s steep cliff side.



A bandit aside him nodded in agreement. o Poor bastard. Prolly didno t see it comino neither,o he sighed thoughtfully, also preoccupied by their luck, but quickly became aware that they had failed to apprehend their target.



Another of the group piped in with an aggravated tone, o So whato re we gonna do about his bounty? Heo s worthless dead.o The disgruntled redhead spat angrily and pulled back on his jet-black horseo s bridle, forcing the mount to back away from the canyon.



The tawny horse reared back upon her hind legs and savagely neighed in the darkness; she seemed overwhelmed by fear and anger attributed by the loss of her rider, so with a final buck, she darted off into the night fueled by vengeful grief. The evident leader of the five men drew his horse away from the cliff and stared at the fleeing tan horse disbelievingly.



He raised an overgrown blond eyebrow. o Damn, that mare can move- no wonder we couldno t catch her,o he mused aloud, tugging at his golden beard. o Alright,o he began authoritatively, o Leto s get goino o ¦ Thereo s nothino more we can do here. I ain't too keen on divin' into gulches like that 'un, even lesser so in the middle of the night. My guess is he's dead, or damn near it.o A second escaped him, but he nimbly continued as if he had not paused, o Let's go. If he survived the fall, he sure as hell ain't gonna stand a chance until mornin' comes. Co mon. Yah!o He dug his rusty spurs into the side of his chocolate mustang and forced him into a dead sprint.



Three more of them followed close behind; however, one rider lingered at the scene. Her short, stark-white hair danced in the summer breeze and her vibrant green irises remained fixated upon the depths of the chasm. Tears formed at her eyeso rims as she stared into the darkness. o Vinceo ¦o she breathed soundlessly. With a shake of her light head, she steered her painted horse from the gulley and bolted off to close the gap between her and the members of her band, salty tears trailing behind her in the painto s dusty wake.