Creative Writing: Duvall's Trail

Jake watched as Miss Collins’ horse galloped through the trees and out of sight. He made an exasperated snort and slid the Winchester into the rifle scabbard. His duty was to get Duvall, and he’d start by doubling back to the dead or wounded outlaws.
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Jake placed the last rock on the grave and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He pulled on his vest, giving it a tug when it snagged on his badge, and leaned from side-to-side, stretching the stiff muscles in his back. Burying the outlaws was the decent thing to do, but he felt like it was far more than they would have done for him.
Glad to be finished with the unpleasant task, he slapped the dirt from his hands and swung into the saddle.
Within a few minutes, he picked up Duvall’s trail. All but one set of tracks headed into the hills. The distinct tracks of the woman’s stallion, horseshoes hand forged with a

It couldn’t be wise to get friendly with him. Yet if he had a family, or at least a grandfather, he might have a home. Maybe he told the truth.
“Duvall and his gang could have killed us both today. Why did you get involved?”
Kat drew the rifle closer to her chest. “Like I said, it was a favor.”
“But how’d you figure I wasn’t on the opposite side of the law?” His hat still covered his eyes.
“Maybe it hasn’t been decided yet.”
Jake pushed the hat back on his head. “You took quite a risk.” He opened a tobacco tin and moments later, a match flicked.
Kat studied the broad shoulders propped against the fancy saddle. His gun belt lay next to the saddle and the Colts were within an arm’s reach. Did she believe he was a Ranger? He didn’t resemble a poor cowboy, and the silver worked saddle must have cost a fortune. “Which way do you think Duvall will go from here?”
“North. Maybe St. Joseph.”
“Someone might shoot him if there’s a reward.”
His expression hardened. “The bounty is six hundred dollars. I’m not going to kill him for the