Chapter 11 - Steel and Lace
Clara found a pair of heavy work boots and denim jeans inside the cabin's storage closet. Using a hunting knife from the kitchen block, she sliced through the delicate silk and tulle of her wedding dress, ripping the garment down to a simple cloth shirt. She tied the frayed ends around her waist and laced up the boots. The bride was gone; only the daughter remained.
""We can't walk into Helena,"" Clara said, leaning over a faded map spread across the wooden table. ""If Silas has the police force, every highway checkpoint will have our descriptions.""
Hawk watched her transformation with a flicker of grim approval in his weathered eyes. ""There's an old coal spur line that runs behind the timber mill outside town. Freight train 402 slows down to ten miles an hour at the river switch every morning at sunrise. If we jump the boxcars, we bypass the road blocks entirely.""
""And the bike?"" Clara asked, looking out toward the Harley.
""The bike stays,"" Hawk said softly. ""It's too loud. It's my signature. Leaving it behind is like leaving an arm, but it's the only way to keep you alive.""
Clara walked to the window, watching the first gray fingers of dawn creep across the mountain ridgeline. ""Why did you come back, Hawk? My dad disappeared fifteen years ago. Marcus is dead. You could have stayed gone. Why risk your neck for me?""
Hawk paused, his fingers tightening around the strap of his duffel. He looked at his own scarred hands, hands that had buried too many brothers in unmarked graves.
""Because fifteen years ago, Thomas took a bullet that was meant for me,"" Hawk said, his voice dropping to a whisper. ""He bled in the mud so I could ride away. I spent fifteen years running from his ghost. I’m done running, Clara.""
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A sharp metallic snap echoed from the perimeter tripwire Hawk had set in the brush. Hawk extinguished the kerosene lamp instantly, plunging the room into darkness.
""Footsteps,"" Hawk breathed, pressing his back against the timber wall. ""They found us.""
