Henry returned to the basin where the horses were kept.
His progress bar now read Level 3, 8.78%. He had gained another 5 green pearls, 57 white, and 65 grey. Only two of the green pearls pulsed with a skill or talent. His total pearl energy was now equivalent to 579 grey pearls, enough to upgrade another talent. He would save it for a safer time.
He counted eighty-two horses remaining in the basin; a couple dozen must have run off. He infused each one with a grey pearl husk and stored them away. He now had 120 horses in his space. He also took the outlaws' supply wagon.
Ten minutes later, he returned to the main party, who let out a collective sigh of relief. They immediately set off again, heading toward the Frisco side of the gulch.
As they entered the second half of the valley, Henry's eyes scanned the cliffs on either side, his body tense. He knew he should have scouted this side as well, but it was already 5:42 PM. There wasn't enough time. He was taking a calculated risk. If another large force was waiting here, he would survive, but the others would almost certainly die.
But his work over the past few days had paid off. The road was clear. They passed through the deadly gulch without incident.
It was 6:15 PM when they saw the figures on the hill in the distance. Henry took off his hat and waved. A cheer erupted from Linda, Pete, and the others. They had been waiting for six long hours.
Henry halted the convoy at the base of the hill. He assigned a ranch-hand-turned-deputy to drive his carriage, then mounted the man's horse and gave the order to move out. After another ten-minute delay, the full party was on the road again, finally clear of Dead Man's Gulch.
"Charles," Henry commanded, "we'll tackle The Gallows tomorrow. Find us a place to make camp for the night. We need to be set up before dark."
"No problem, Sheriff. There's a good spot by the river, just two miles ahead," Charles replied, and spurred his horse forward to lead the way.
A night in the Western wilderness was a dangerous proposition. There were snakes, scorpions, cougars, wolves, and bears. There were outlaws and hostile natives. And there were the dangers of nature itself: flash floods, lightning, tornadoes, and rockslides.
A dozen minutes later, they arrived at a flat patch of ground at the base of a hundred-meter-high hill, just fifty meters from the banks of the Colorado River.
All the men, Richard included, immediately set to work pitching the canvas tents and building two large bonfires while the women and children watched. Soon, the scent of coffee, bread, beef jerky, and bacon filled the air. Henry contributed two large bags of biscuits and dried fruit from his luggage, much to the delight of Andre and Becky, who ran around the campsite like happy butterflies.
The once-desolate patch of wilderness was transformed into a cheerful picnic, the lively children adding a spark of joy to the rugged landscape.
Watching them, Henry felt a strange sense of accomplishment, the feeling of a protector providing a safe haven for his people.
Back in Frisco, Raphael was giving another report to Mayor William.
"…we can assume all the men at Dwyer Manor are dead. The two deputies Whitey sent to investigate found only a dozen women in a state of shock. They had to fire their guns to scare off the foxes and coyotes that were circling the property."
"According to the women, a powerful gang attacked the manor at 5 AM yesterday. They used explosives. All the guards are either dead or missing. There was infighting among the servants afterward, and all the remaining men were killed."
"The smelting plant was hit last night by a similar force. The entire company of over two hundred men was likely wiped out. Their bodies were even removed from the scene, which speaks to the enemy's strength and composure."
"There were riots at the mines afterward. The McKinley's losses are catastrophic."
"Barack, the McKinley's man on the town council, has taken in the surviving women from the manor. I assume he has already sent a telegram to Denver."
William listened in silence, then dismissed the investigator.
What is Henry's connection to this powerful, mysterious force? he wondered. The question plagued him. He knew Henry's entire life story. An organization this powerful doesn't just appear out of nowhere.
He didn't understand it. But he was confident, from Henry's actions, that the boy meant him no harm.
In the McKinley manor in Denver, Brendan's face was ashen. He had just received the telegram from Frisco. The losses were staggering. In ten days, his family had lost over 400 private soldiers, nearly two-thirds of their entire force in the West. The direct financial losses exceeded $150,000, and that wasn't counting the cost of the shutdown at the mine.
He was finally seeing the hidden strength of the Sinclair family. Their counter-attack had been swift and utterly devastating.
His most pressing concern now was for Richard Mellon. Could he and his party make it to Frisco safely?
He also now knew that Henry was escorting Sheriff Bryan's widow to Denver on the very same day. It was almost certain their paths would cross on the road.
He was terrified that Henry would take the opportunity to wipe out his last remaining escort of thirty-one men, and Richard Mellon along with them.
But even if Richard did make it to Frisco, he wouldn't arrive until after 7 PM, long after the telegraph office had closed. Brendan would have no way of knowing his fate until the next morning. All he could do was wait.