Eli's voice hardened.
“People don't belong to other people.”
Voss laughed.
“You've been listening to them.”
“Yes.”
“That makes you a fool.”
“Maybe.”
Voss looked behind him.
“You think twenty-five women and one cowboy can stop us?”
Eli shook his head.
“No.”
Voss smiled.
“Good.”
“I think you made one mistake.”
“What?”
“You assumed they were waiting for me to protect them.”
Voss frowned.
Eli stepped aside.
Behind him stood the twenty-five women.
Not hiding.
Not trembling.
Standing together.
Naya stepped forward.
“We are not going back.”
Voss laughed.
“You don't decide that.”
Naya answered:
“We already did.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then something unexpected happened.
The women from Dry Creek began walking toward the ranch.
Then more people appeared behind them.
Farmers.
Ranchers.
Shopkeepers.
Families.
Even Sheriff Bell.
Eli stared.
Bell rode forward.
“I believe I've seen enough.”
Voss's expression changed.
“This is none of your business.”
Bell shook his head.
“It became my business when you rode armed men onto private land.”
Voss looked around.
He realized the situation had changed.
He had come expecting twenty-five frightened women.
Instead, he had found a community.
Eli looked at Naya.
She smiled.
Not triumphantly.
Gratefully.
The standoff lasted nearly an hour.
Then Voss turned his horse.
“This isn't over.”
Eli watched him leave.
“No,” he said quietly.
“It isn't.”
But the real ending came later.
That evening, the ranch gathered around a long table.
There was stew.
Fresh bread.
Beans.
Corn.
Someone had even found enough peaches for dessert.
Eli looked around.
Six weeks earlier, he had eaten alone.
Now there were dozens of people around him.
He looked at Naya.
“What happens now?”
She smiled.
“We stay.”
Eli laughed.
“I thought the debt was only for one season.”
Naya nodded.
“It was.”
“And?”
“The debt is paid.”
“So why stay?”
She looked toward the women.
Then toward the fields.
Then toward the small house Eli had finally repaired.
“Because we discovered something.”
“What?”
“We were running away from one life.”
She paused.
“Then we found another.”
Eli smiled.
“You mean this place?”
“No.”
She looked at the people gathered around the table.
“This.”
Eli understood.
A home was not a building.
It was not a fence.
It was not land.
It was people who decided to remain when leaving would have been easier.
Years later, travelers passing through the region would tell stories about the ranch outside Dry Creek.
They would speak of the enormous garden that seemed impossible in such dry country.
They would talk about the cattle.
The woven blankets.
The repaired barn.
The strange mixture of cultures that had grown together there.