CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The two men rode hard, Henry in the lead, head down, leaning over his horse’s neck. A man possessed, Reece’s words ringing in his ears. They had to get to Whitewater before the Indians attacked.
Behind him, whipping his reins across his own mount, Otis kept up as best he could, but his horse was smaller, nowhere near as fast. His boss was steadily out-distancing him. Determined not to lose too much ground, he gritted his teeth and urged his horse on as fast as it could go.
Despite their best efforts, the time diminished more quickly than their race. Every minute they spent galloping was another minute given to the Indians. For all those two men knew, the attack could already be underway.
As they burst out across the ragged plain, they could see the town, its one mai
