The train stops at Blackwood station. Passengers usher us away from the train and through the town, parading us around, singing our names.

“We need to get y’all a drink after that!” a man shouts, pumping his fist into the air, and the rest of the rescued passengers follow suit.

All the cheers and praise aren’t enough to warm my blood after seeing the cold dead eyes of the man I’d killed with the Sharps. Even surrounded by warm bodies and with Jude’s arm around my shoulder, my skin is icy. Hollering out mine and Daddy’s names can’t remove the buzzing and sharp pain in my shoulder, either. I trudge forward, my legs like hollow shell casings without the bullets.

Daddy grabs the arm of an important-looking gentleman with a mustache standing outside the general store. “Get the boys together to clean up the mess on the train and be so kind as to wagon some barrels of water out to my ranch. Afraid to say these robbers set fire to our crops.”

The man with the mustache removes his bowler hat, sets it over his chest, and offers Daddy a small bow. “Yes, Sheriff. We’re on it.”

He darts off, leaving us back with the crowd. I glance at Jude, whose head is hanging toward his boots. I give him a little shake on the shoulder to get his attention, but he doesn’t lift his head to greet me. Can’t fully blame him for the way the crowd shoves us through the swinging doors of the saloon.

Suddenly, swift piano music fills my ears. The sight of women in dresses with tight bodices, dancing with their men with their sleeves rolled up, is enough to distract me from my colder thoughts, at least while beers and shots of whiskey are put in my hands by the excited former train passengers.

Men at the bar all raise their glasses to us.

“To the heroes who saved the 9:15 to Blackwood,” one shouts, knocking back a shot of whiskey.

Dozens of feet stomp, and the man at the piano with unkempt, sweaty hair plays a fast ballad. For a second, I see the corpse, the way his mouth hung open, and the blood dribbling out of the hole in his chest and staining his clothes. Then I see Jude give me a soft smile.

Through the noise, he leans into my ear and whispers, “Wild night, but hard to not feel good after being heralded as heroes.”

I snicker. “Then why do you look so glum, Jude Price?”

Daddy pounds a beer bottle against the bar and commands the attention of the entire saloon. “You all have my great thanks for the hospitality tonight. These two young’uns showed quite the resolve out there on the train. But we’ve had a long night, and I need to speak with them in the back. Please give us some privacy.”

Another round of applause forces Daddy to lift his beer bottle into the air and give a small bow.

Daddy always said being a sheriff was three parts being a good man and one part pageantry.

He approaches me and Jude, and right as I’m about to take the shot of whiskey somebody handed me, Daddy swipes it. He slurps it down and points a finger at my nose.

“Now Missy, I ain’t got no problem with you celebrating such a wild time with a beer or two. But the harder stuff will come later.”

Jude has his shot of whiskey half to his lips when looks at me, then at Daddy. Jude sets the whiskey down and we all make for a table in the back, away from the dancing and ruckus.

Daddy tosses his hat onto the middle of the table and collapses into the chair. “Told y’all not to follow me.”

“Daddy!” I protest. “You didn’t really think…”

He holds up a hand. “I’m grateful that y’all did. Saved my skin back there.”

Daddy sips at his beer and shuts his eyes. “This just ain’t the life I wanted for you, Sarah. Getting caught up in violence. Cold killing. Nearly seeing your father shot.”

He tugs at his gray beard and rises from his seat. “Just give me a minute to collect my thoughts.”

Daddy moseys away, his spurs clacking as he drags his feet, leaving me and Jude alone. At the same time, we both take a sip from our beers. It ain’t my first, but it sure as hell tastes like it after the night’s events, and I welcome the sudsy, cold buzz it gives me.

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Jude says, rubbing his thumbs along the neck of his beer bottle.

I dry-swallow. Jude’s got a dubious past. Makes me wonder what sort of future we have together.

If we have any future at all…

Who am I kidding? We fought beside one another. Rode into hell with one another! The sparks were already there. Course we have a future, if we’re willing to fight for one…

But can I trust the feller?

I scooch my chair over to Jude and place my hand on his. “Quit beating yourself up. You weren’t rolling with the crooks. You were trying to stop them.”

Jude exhales deeply. “Feels like I was a part of them, even though I shot two of them dead.”

“And threw a man off the tracks,” I joke, rubbing some dirt off his cheek. Jude chuckles.

“I just feel terrible, Sarah. The fact that men like that, men who wanted to hurt people, could even recognize me, it just gets my gut twisted.”

Jude sets a hand on my knee, pulls it away, then sets it back down again. I inch closer to him and squeeze his hand. Before tonight, Jude was a crush I’d passed in the general store and had dreams about crossing paths with again. But now, our paths hadn’t just crossed—they were intertwined and tangled up. We’d saved one another. Moving alongside him, train car to train car, the bullets whizzing past us made more sense to me than anything ever has.

And when he hugged me, I felt something deep inside my heart unlock, like the way a flower opens up when it blossoms. I want to feel that way again.

“You’re a good man, Jude,” I say, watching his eyes twinkle. He finishes his beer, and I finish mine. “Don’t let your past tear you apart. Focus on the man you are today. The man you want to be.”

Jude gives me a sly smile. “Well, the man I want to be is the man who winds up kissing you tonight.”

Blushing, I laugh. “That’d be the best birthday present you could give me.”

Jude and I lean into one another, and he presses his lips against mine. The stress of the day, the uncertainty, the anxiousness, it all fizzles away at his touch. His kiss warms my cold skin and makes my heart thump. I grab hold of his shirt and tug on it, trying to pull him even closer to me.

Despite whatever Jude might think about himself, when I’m with him, I feel safe.

Taking in his scent of tobacco and beer leaves me nearly intoxicated. Riding a high of the best birthday wish ever.

Then my eyes spring open, and I pull away. “My goodness! Kalen! And the horses!”

Jude and I launch out of our seats and sprint outside. Relief washes over me as Queenie neighs and stomps her two front hooves. She brushes her nose against my face.

“Hey, girl!” I exclaim, petting her mane and playing with her braid. “Looks like you wrangled the other horses, too.”

I see Daddy’s, and Kalen’s.

But where the heck is Kalen?

I saddle up on Queenie and point to Kalen’s horse. “Jude, you take Kalen’s horse. He won’t mind if we find him hoppin’ around on that sore ankle.”

Jude stares at the ground by his boots. He breathes deeply as if he’s lost in thought.

“Jude! You comin’?”

He grits his teeth and then nods. “‘Course. Why don’t you head back to the ranch, and I’ll see if he’s around the tracks? Last thing I want is for that feller I threw off the train to find Kalen.”

“All right,” I say, not really wanting to separate. But the need to find Kalen takes over my sensibilities. “And after we’ll meet up back here?”

Jude is awfully quiet. He clears his throat and gives me a small grin. “Good plan, Sarah. I’ll meet you back here.”

Jude and I break off in separate directions, and as we do, Daddy bursts out of the saloon. “The hell y’all goin?”

“To find Kalen!” I call out.

Daddy tosses his beer bottle to the ground and hops on his horse. He rides behind me, and we rush toward the fields, watching as men dump barrels of water on the last few standing flames.

All of our crops, gone.

I envision Kalen rolling around and screaming, engulfed in the inferno. I think about the dead men on the train, clutching their chests where they’d been shot.

Then I think of Jude’s smile, and I know everything is going to be all right.