Lanterns burned inside.
Two hired men drank beside a barn.
The frontiersman recognized one.
A former militia sergeant.
The sight tightened his stomach.
The daughter noticed.
“From Tonto Basin?”
“Yes.”
“Then our answer is close.”
They circled behind the barn.
Inside were crates.
The daughter pried one open.
Rifles.
Government issue.
Another contained ammunition.
A third held traps.
The same traps found in the mountains.
The frontiersman whispered, “He's arming somebody.”
“Who?”
“That is what worries me.”
Voices approached.
They hid behind stacked hay.
The former sergeant entered with the ranch owner.
The cattleman was older now.
He had gained weight.
His hair had gone gray.
But the voice was unchanged.
The frontiersman had heard it give orders in Tonto Basin.
“Two more incidents,” the ranch owner said. “That's all we need.”
The former sergeant nodded.
“Patrol from the fort believes the camp has been attacking stockmen already.”
“Good.”
“What about the survey crew?”
“They arrive next month. Once the Army pushes that camp west, the valley opens.”
“And the territorial office?”
“Paid.”
The daughter looked at the frontiersman.
His expression had hardened.
The ranch owner continued.
“Tomorrow night, burn the northern line shack.”
“Blame them?”
“Leave an arrow.”
The former sergeant laughed.
“Old trick.”
“Old tricks work.”
Footsteps moved closer.
The daughter shifted.
A piece of loose wood cracked beneath her boot.
Silence.
The men stopped talking.
“Who's there?”
The frontiersman grabbed her hand.
They ran.
A gunshot exploded behind them.
The barn door slammed open.
Another shot.
They reached the fence.
The daughter vaulted it easily.
The frontiersman followed.
A bullet struck the rail beside his hand.
Men shouted.
They sprinted toward the ridge.
The two warriors appeared above them with horses.
The daughter reached her mare.
The frontiersman swung onto the gelding.
They rode.
Behind them, four riders gave chase.
The moon turned the snow blue.
Hooves thundered through the valley.
The daughter rode first.
She knew the terrain.
The frontiersman followed.
A bullet passed close enough for him to hear it.
Then another.
They entered a narrow ravine.
The daughter shouted something.
The two warriors split left.
She went right.
The frontiersman followed her.
“Where are we going?”
“Trust me.”
“That has gone badly so far.”
“Then die alone.”
“Fair.”
The ravine narrowed.
Ahead, a fallen tree appeared.
The daughter ducked under a gap.
The frontiersman barely made it.
One pursuing rider did not.
His horse stopped too late.
The man flew from the saddle.
The other pursuers scattered.
The daughter and frontiersman continued uphill.
After another mile they stopped.
Both horses were breathing hard.
The frontiersman looked back.
No pursuit.