In the American West during the 19th century, if you committed a crime in a small town, your best bet was to flee into the wilderness as fast as possible—into the forests or the plains. There, you stood a high chance of being mauled by a cougar, poisoned by a rattlesnake, killed by outlaws, or simply starving to death. Of course, you might also succumb to tuberculosis, tetanus, or an infected wound.

  If you were lucky enough to survive and avoid bounty hunters, you could cross into another state, where state lawmen were unlikely to pursue you.

  But for now, Chen Jianqiu wasn't too worried about that. Flying Bird probably knew the Rocky Mountains better than ten of him and Sean combined. And according to Flying Bird, he was the son of a tribal hero—at least they didn't have to worry about being scalped by Native Americans.

  The immediate problem was finding horses.

  "I have one horse, at the station," Flying Bird said.

  "But there are three of us," Sean muttered. His expression was hidden in the darkness, but he sounded dejected.

  "Let's check it out first," Chen Jianqiu decided.

  The three of them avoided the main road, moving through the night toward the station.

  When they arrived, they found a brown Appaloosa standing quietly in the stable, munching on hay. The stable wasn't large, but aside from this horse, every other stall was empty.

  "Hey, Huey!" Flying Bird excitedly jumped into the stable, stroking his beloved horse and whispering something in its ear in his native tongue, treating it like a lover.

  "Disgusting," Sean grumbled. "Chen, what do we do now? Three people on one horse—we'll crush it to death."

  Flying Bird waved them over, but Chen Jianqiu didn't respond. His attention was fixed on a wagon parked beside the station.

  It was a stagecoach, likely just arrived. A tall Shire horse stood with its head lowered, pawing at the ground.

  "We'll take this one," Chen Jianqiu said to Sean, pointing at the Shire. "I'll unhitch it. You go check the stable for a saddle."

  Sean perked up instantly.

  After leading his own horse out, Flying Bird came to help. Once Chen Jianqiu freed the horse from its harness, Flying Bird took the reins, gently patting the horse's neck and smoothing its mane. Native Americans had a natural affinity for animals, and the massive Shire grew surprisingly docile under his touch.

  "We head southwest," Flying Bird said, glancing at the stars to confirm their direction. "Soon, we'll reach a river. Then we follow the Green River south into the Uinta Mountains. My people are there."

  Chen Jianqiu nodded and took the reins.

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  "Where's Sean? How long does it take to grab a saddle?" he wondered aloud.

  "I didn't see him when I came out," Flying Bird said, equally puzzled.

  Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached. They turned to see Sean sprinting toward them, a saddle slung over his shoulder, chased by a stablehand brandishing a pitchfork and cursing:

  "You son of a bitch, stop right there!"

  "Go, go, let's move!" Sean shoved the saddle into Chen Jianqiu's hands as he skidded to a halt.

  "You goddamn—" Chen Jianqiu quickly secured the saddle onto the Shire, swung himself onto the horse, and hauled Sean up behind him.

  The stablehand skidded to a stop, gaping at the three armed men and two horses. Realizing the odds, he dropped his pitchfork and bolted.

  Flying Bird raised his rifle, but Chen Jianqiu waved for him to lower it.

  "Gunfire will bring them faster. Let's ride." He turned the horse and spurred it toward the edge of town, Flying Bird close behind.

  "I told you to grab a saddle from the stable. How did you end up with a man chasing you?" Chen Jianqiu asked as they rode.

  "All the saddles in the stable were crap. I passed the station house and saw that stablehand using a decent one as a pillow, so I helped myself. Normally, no problem—but tonight, the log he was lying on must've been too uncomfortable. He woke up."

  Chen Jianqiu tugged the reins as the Shire leaped over a fallen log. The jolt nearly made Sean bite off his own tongue.

  "There's a Chinese saying for people like you: 'A dog can't stop eating shit.'" Chen Jianqiu briefly considered throwing him off the horse but restrained himself.

  "Flying Bird, lead the way!" he called.

  With a whistle, Flying Bird urged his horse forward.

  Under the moonlit desert plateau, the two horses raced one after another. The outline of Stone Spring Town shrank into the darkness behind them.

  "Chen, look—what's that behind us?" Sean tapped Chen Jianqiu's waist.

  Glancing back, Chen Jianqiu saw distant pinpricks of light in the blackness.

  "They're fast," Flying Bird remarked. "West of town, there's only this one road. Should we avoid them?"

  The three changed course, veering off the road into the desert. They weaved through shrubs toward a barren hill in the distance.

  Yet no matter how they zigzagged, the lights followed.

  "Damn it, they seem to know where we're going," Sean muttered.

  "Probably tracking our trail. Johnny used to be a cowboy," Flying Bird said.

  They reached the back of the hill.

  The winds of the inland West had eroded the landscape into jagged shapes. Two bare stone hills stood in the wasteland, moonlight streaming between them onto a clearing littered with bizarre rock formations. Shadows and shrubs intertwined, creating an eerie scene.

  Chen Jianqiu dismounted, pulling a shotgun from his saddle.

  "Flying Bird and I will scout ahead. You hide here—we'll be back soon." He took the axe from Flying Bird, and the two vanished into the shadows.

  Before Sean could react, he was alone with the horses.

  "Uh, boss, you… uh, hurry back."

  He glanced around, then ducked behind a large boulder nearby.

  Minutes passed with no sign of Chen Jianqiu or Flying Bird.

  "Shit, did they ditch me?" Cold sweat beaded on Sean's forehead. "No, the horses are still here. They can't have gone far."

  A gust of wind made him shiver. The long ride had left him with a pressing need to relieve himself.

  Trembling, he stood and unbuttoned his pants, aiming at the rock.

  Suddenly, the sound of galloping hooves startled him so badly he nearly wet himself.

  "Boss, there are two horses over there!" a man's voice called. Sean yanked up his pants and crouched behind the rock, not daring to breathe.

  "If the horses are here, they can't be far," Johnny's voice replied. "Search the area. Stay armed."

  Another gust of wind swept through, and the voices faded, leaving only the occasional snort of a horse.

  Sean could hear his own heartbeat. Maybe the pursuers had gone the other way. He risked a peek.

  But when he turned, the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple.

  "Smelled piss and knew you'd be here," Johnny sneered in the lantern light. "Kill a man, steal, and think you can run?"

  Beads of sweat rolled down Sean's forehead.