I toss a couple twigs on the fire, and settle in against a rock. All my possessions in the world are in this tiny campsite, and by the time I’m done here I should shed a few of them. On the road I’m traveling you can’t carry much with you aside from your memories.

Memories. I left the marshals when Sheriff Barnum died and I never should have joined in the first place. I knew it. Pammy knew it. Everyone knew it. I needed to run, and they were there waiting. I ran away to save myself from humiliation and my world ended while I was gone.

All that’s left is to pick up the pieces.

I hear my horse snort from the edge of the campsite and I let the warmth and steady crackling of the fire send me off to sleep. When the sun comes up and the heat makes waves rise up from the desert floor, I’ll set off to rescue her from my mistakes.