Ride On (sample chapters)

0. Seph

I haven't broken any laws. But I haven't followed any either. Never have. My father always said the only laws we need to follow are the ones our hearts say are right.

Some call me an outlaw, but others call me a cowboy. I don't rightly know what a cowboy is, but I like the sound of it better. Because every time I think of an outlaw, I think of the man who killed my father, and that is not who I am.

Cowboy.

Cade nudges my back with his warm nose, bored with me standing here like an idiot. I go back to thinking about states and repeating their names in my head. About the names people call me. It keeps me focused.

We cross over the invisible Texas state line, and I'm surprised about the lack of trouble I'm having. It makes me nervous, it being this easy. The feel of the breeze and the silence raises the hair along my arms.

Asphalt and wind. Bound and free. Life and death.

Two sides of the road for everything.

And this is one of them.

Like most of the roads, the highway is cleared of old metal. The vehicles now sit in the ditches, hollowed bones rusted into the ground like artificial trees. My father told me trees used to have green leaves that grew from their branches.

My father—

I used to call him Dad back before he died years ago. When I think of him I just think, my father. My father did that, my father told me this . . .

Dad.

Dad used to tell me everything.

I like calling him that. Even if it is only in my head. It makes me feel like he's still with me.

The wind picks up, blowing dust from the west. I pull the bandana from my neck up over my nose and mouth. I do the same with Cade, tucking the cloth into his bridle to protect his lungs from prolonged exposure. My goggles still hang around my neck, so I pull them up and over my eyes, blinking the dust from my lashes.

In the north, the ground is frozen, but here it's dust.

We continue south. Cade keeps his head low and presses into my back to keep the dust from his eyes. There's an old sign up ahead with the list of cities that's been spray painted over with the names we use now. The next city is five miles south. And then the big city, Kev, is twenty. That city has its own stories and rumors, ones I hope aren't true.

I have no choice but to stop. We both need food.

There's a bridge up ahead, crossing over the highway. This is the first sign of cover that I've come across since the border, someplace where a gang of outlaws would love to hide behind. Cade lifts his head and I keep my eyes sharp.

I stop before the shadow of the bridge covers me. The flaps of my coat tug in the wind, sending dust spiraling around my feet. With the slightest movement, I brush my hand across my right thigh, feeling my holster up to the handle of my revolver, worn and familiar. I let the fear pump adrenaline through my veins, making my hands steady and sure.

They finally show themselves, and there are only four of them—a small crew for the rumors around here to be true. I wait for more to appear, but they never do. Maybe this isn't the same gang. Two men on the bridge, and two men under it.

"Good day, cowboy." The two men under the bridge step out of the shadows.

I smile to myself at the name.

None of them have bandanas over their mouths—some people don't care about their health when the world has already gone to hell.

"What brings you to Texas?" The younger man talking has tanned skin and wild hair, his words slow and drawn out, probably from somewhere east of here. He points a rifle to the ground that looks more cared for than himself.