Da didn’t ask to flee. She wanted justice. Wanted truth. Wanted to return to the place where Pike stole everything from her—including her brother.
A violent sandstorm hit before they reached the ranch. Wind tore Da from Bryant’s grasp, throwing her into the dust. A stranger emerged from the storm, claiming Pike sent him to finish the job. Before he could act, a single gunshot cut through the storm. Bryant stood behind him, lowering his rifle. “He wasn’t much for conversation,” he said.
When the storm cleared, Pike’s ranch came into view—lit, guarded, and heavy with secrets. From the top of a ridge, Da made her decision. “I want him to see me,” she said.
They infiltrated the ranch through a weak stretch of wall and reached the old well behind the barn—the same one where her captors threw her. Da climbed down and found a medallion engraved with Pike’s crest. Proof. When she surfaced, gunfire erupted. She and Bryant fought their way to Pike’s tower.
Inside, Pike waited with a drink in hand, confident, arrogant, and unshaken—until Da tossed the medallion at his feet. His confidence cracked. “Where did you get that?” he demanded.
“In the place you left me,” she answered.
Bryant disarmed him, and Da faced the man who tried to erase her. She chose justice over fear. Pike’s empire fell that night as flames consumed the ranch.
But freedom came with a price. Militia riders intercepted Da and Bryant the next morning, investigating the fire. At a remote outpost, Captain Merrick listened to Da’s story—cautious but not dismissive. Before he could decide their fate, Pike’s loyalists attacked the post.
Merrick unlocked their cell. “Fight for your truth,” he said.
Da and Bryant defended the camp through a night of smoke and chaos. When the dust settled, the attackers were gone, and Merrick lay dying, relieved that Pike’s crimes would finally see light.
Da buried the fallen at dawn, speaking their names into the wind. She and Bryant traveled to the Salado River, where she released Pike’s medallion into the current. “I don’t need proof anymore,” she said. “The river will remember.”
The next morning, Bryant was gone, leaving only a note weighted with a stone:
The desert remembers, but it leaves room to forgive. Keep going.
Da smiled, mounted her horse, and rode east as the sun spread gold over the land that once tried to swallow her. She was no longer a survivor of the desert—she was part of its legend.
What do you think—should this become a series, a short film, or a full novel? Share your thoughts and help shape the next chapter!