At first, he saw nothing.
Then a figure appeared.
Then another.
Then a third.
Three riders.
No.
Not riders.
They were walking.
Eli watched carefully.
They were Apache.
Two carried bows, though neither had drawn one. The third had something wrapped around her shoulder. All three moved slowly, with the careful, exhausted steps of people who had spent too long under the sun.
Eli's hand remained near the rifle.
The three strangers stopped nearly fifty yards away.
One of them raised both empty hands.
Eli said nothing.
The woman in front spoke.
Her English was broken but understandable.
“Water.”
One word.
Nothing else.
Eli looked toward his house.
The well was nearly empty.
He had been measuring every bucket for weeks.
Water meant survival.
For himself.
For his horse.
For his cattle.
Giving it away could be dangerous.
Yet he looked again at the three strangers.
The youngest was barely more than a girl.
Her lips were cracked.
The older woman beside her was stumbling.
The third stood between them as though she had spent the last several miles keeping the others upright.
Eli lowered his rifle.
“Wait there.”
He walked toward the house.
He filled three tin cups.
Then he stopped.
Three cups would not be enough.
He took the largest bucket he had.
When he returned, the three women were still standing exactly where he had left them.
He placed the bucket on the ground.
“Drink.”
They hesitated.
Eli nodded.
The youngest woman stepped forward.
She knelt.
She lifted the bucket with both hands.
She drank carefully at first.
Then desperately.
The older woman touched her shoulder and murmured something in Apache.
The young woman lowered the bucket.
The leader drank next.
Then the older woman.
When they finished, there was still water left.
Eli pushed the bucket toward them.
“Take it.”
The leader stared at him.
“You give all?”
Eli shrugged.
“I've got another bucket.”
It was a lie.
He didn't.
But the three women didn't know that.
The leader looked at him for a long moment.
Then she placed one hand against her chest.
“My name is Naya.”
She pointed to the younger woman.
“Lena.”
Then the older woman.
“Mae.”
Eli touched his own chest.
“Eli.”
Naya nodded.
“Eli.”
The name seemed to matter.
She looked toward the ranch.
Then toward the well.
Then back at him.
“Thank you.”
Eli picked up his rifle.
“Get somewhere safe before dark.”
Naya's eyes narrowed slightly.
“Safe?”
“There's trouble around here.”
She understood.
She nodded.
The three women turned and walked away.
Eli watched until they disappeared beyond the ridge.
Then he returned to his fence.
He told himself that was the end of it.
He was wrong.
That night, Eli slept badly.
Several times he woke and stepped onto the porch.