“What happened?”
“I took them through a cut in the rocks.”
She stared at him.
“They lived?”
“I don't know.”
“Describe the woman.”
He did.
A woven red band.
A scar near the eyebrow.
A blanket around one shoulder.
The daughter slowly lowered the rifle.
“My aunt had a scar there.”
The frontiersman looked at her.
“She lived?”
The daughter said nothing for several seconds.
Then she nodded.
“She reached another band three days later.”
The stranger closed his eyes.
Something inside him seemed to break.
For years he had carried one memory differently from the others.
The woman and child disappearing between rocks.
He had never known whether they survived.
He had never allowed himself to hope.
Now, against every reasonable expectation, he felt tears burn his eyes.
The daughter saw them.
It did not erase her anger.
But it complicated it.
“My aunt never knew who showed her the canyon.”
The frontiersman looked away.
“She shouldn't owe me anything.”
“No.”
“She doesn't.”
“No.”
He nodded.
The daughter lowered the rifle completely.
“But neither does saving one woman erase what you helped begin.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She approached him.
“What would you do if the same thing happened now?”
The frontiersman looked directly at her.
“I wouldn't walk away.”
Something in his answer convinced her more than any apology could have.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But enough.
She turned to the other warriors and spoke.
They argued.
One looked ready to kill the stranger anyway.
Eventually the daughter raised her voice.
The argument ended.
They mounted again.
The frontiersman asked, “We're going back?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“To see whether your former employer is preparing for war.”
“That seems optimistic.”
She looked at him.
“You may ride away if you wish.”
He stared at the road ahead.
Three years ago he would have.
That was precisely why he couldn't now.
He guided the gelding alongside her.
“I'll stay.”
The daughter nodded once.
Neither spoke of marriage again.
For the moment, both had found something more dangerous to hate.
Chapter Six — The Cattleman's Game
The ranch stood in a broad valley two days south.
From a ridge above it, the frontiersman counted thirty horses, nearly four hundred cattle, six hired guns, and two freight wagons.
The daughter lay beside him behind a rock.
“What are the wagons carrying?”
“Can't tell.”
“Can we move closer?”
“Yes.”
“Will that get us killed?”
“Probably.”
She gave him a sideways look.
“You have become more honest.”
“Trying something new.”
They waited until dusk.
Then they left the horses with the two warriors and descended.
The cattleman's main house sat near the center of several corrals.