“What?”

She stared at him.

“I told you not to fight strangers because of me.”

“He wasn't a stranger.”

“That improves nothing.”

“He insulted you.”

“I noticed.”

“He came onto my property and insulted my wife.”

She became very still.

The rancher realized what he had said.

My wife.

Not the agency woman.

Not the arrangement.

His wife.

She looked down.

“You didn't have to do that.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She gave him an irritated look.

He returned to the fence.

Ten minutes later she came outside in her reinforced chair, pushing herself along the packed path he had cleared.

“You could have broken your hand.”

“I didn't.”

“You might have.”

“Didn't.”

“Your reasoning is primitive.”

“So I've been told.”

She stopped near him.

“The next man who insults me…”

He looked over.

“I decide whether he deserves punching.”

The rancher considered.

“Fair.”

“And if I say no?”

“I don't punch him.”

“Good.”

“If he insults you twice?”

She tried not to smile.

“Still no.”

“Three times?”

“Henry.”

“Fine.”

She turned her chair toward the cabin.

Then stopped.

“Thank you.”

He looked at the fence post.

“Didn't do it for thanks.”

She studied him.

That answer stayed with her longer than either expected.

Chapter Five — The First Warning

The cattleman returned four days later.

Not personally.

His message did.

A folded note had been nailed to the barn door.

SELL BEFORE WINTER GETS WORSE.

The rancher read it twice.

His wife watched from the porch.

“What does it mean?”

“Nothing.”

“That is obviously untrue.”

He folded the paper.

“Neighbor wants this land.”

“Why?”

“Water.”

The ranch sat over one of the few reliable winter springs in the valley.

Cattle could survive without perfect grazing.

They could not survive without water.

The neighboring cattleman had expanded aggressively for five years.

The rancher’s forty-acre claim blocked direct access between the man’s northern and southern holdings.

“He offered to buy?”

“Three times.”

“And you refused.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I like it here.”

She looked around.

Snow.

Pines.

Mountains.

One stubborn cabin.

“You are easily pleased.”

“Usually.”

She held out her hand.

“Let me see the note.”

The rancher hesitated.

Then gave it to her.

She examined the paper.

“The handwriting looks educated.”

“So?”

“Your neighbor?”

“Can write his name.”

She looked up.

“This isn't his hand.”

The rancher took the note back.

“Could have someone write it.”

“Exactly.”

“You're assuming it's him.”

“You aren't?”

The rancher said nothing.

She pointed toward the barn.

“When did you last check the horses?”

“This morning.”

“Check again.”

He frowned.

“Why?”

She looked at the note.

“Because whoever nailed this walked close enough to reach the barn while we were sleeping.”

That thought changed the day.

The horses were fine.

So were the cattle.