“What records?”
“The ranch books.”
The marshal's face tightened.
“Where is he going?”
“North.”
The chief's daughter looked toward the mountains.
North led toward the old pass.
And beyond it—
Tonto Basin.
The rider gasped.
“He has six men.”
The frontiersman asked, “Why north?”
The answer came from the ranch owner, who was sitting under guard.
Despite the blood covering his injured hand, he smiled.
“Because dead witnesses can't testify.”
The frontiersman's blood went cold.
The daughter understood.
“My aunt.”
The ranch owner smiled wider.
The frontiersman crossed the distance between them so quickly that two soldiers had to stop him.
“Where?”
The cattleman laughed.
The chief's daughter stepped closer.
Her voice was quiet.
“Tell us.”
The ranch owner looked at her.
“No.”
She lifted her rifle.
The lieutenant intervened.
“That will not happen.”
The daughter ignored him.
The frontiersman reached for the barrel and lowered it gently.
She turned on him.
“He is sending men to kill her.”
“I know.”
“Then move.”
He looked at the ranch owner.
“He wants us wasting time here.”
The cattleman's smile faltered.
The frontiersman turned toward his horse.
“Your aunt knows the old canyon?”
The daughter nodded.
“Then we know where they're going.”
The chief stopped them.
He looked at his daughter.
Then at the stranger.
“You ride together.”
The injured son, watching from a blanket nearby, called out, “Husband and wife!”
The daughter whirled.
Her brother immediately lay flat and pretended to be asleep.
Despite everything, the frontiersman smiled.
She pointed at him.
“Do not.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“Your face did.”
Then they rode.
Chapter Ten — Back Into the Basin
The frontiersman had avoided Tonto Basin for three years.
Returning felt like entering a grave that had been waiting for him.
The land looked different under winter snow.
The cottonwoods were bare.
The creek ran dark beneath thin ice.
But memory ignored the season.
He knew where every dwelling had stood.
He knew where the militia captain had placed riflemen.
He knew where the first body fell.
The daughter rode beside him.
She had grown quiet.
Near dusk they found smoke.
A small settlement occupied a protected canyon.
The daughter dismounted before anyone challenged them.
A woman emerged from one shelter.
She was older now.
But the frontiersman recognized the scar beside her eyebrow immediately.
He stopped breathing.
The woman's eyes went first to the daughter.
They embraced.
Then she saw the stranger.
Everything changed.
Her hands fell to her sides.
The daughter spoke rapidly.
The aunt stared at the frontiersman.
He did not move.
Finally she approached.
“You.”
It was not a question.
The stranger lowered his head.
“Yes.”