Ethan looked at her.
“Because being afraid doesn't mean you run.”
The scouts eventually disappeared.
That evening, Serena joined Ethan near the horses.
“You don't have a horse.”
“I noticed.”
She pointed to a black mare.
“Take her.”
Ethan shook his head.
“She's yours.”
“She can carry you.”
“Then what will you ride?”
“I'll walk.”
“You hate walking.”
“How do you know?”
“You complained for twenty minutes yesterday when we walked to the creek.”
Ethan stared at her.
“You were listening?”
“I listen more than people think.”
He smiled.
“That's dangerous.”
“So is riding a dead man's horse.”
The mare stepped toward Ethan.
He placed a hand on her neck.
“What is her name?”
“Shadow.”
“Seems appropriate.”
“She belonged to my brother.”
Ethan immediately withdrew his hand.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I won't take something that matters to you.”
Serena stepped closer.
“She matters because he is gone.”
Ethan said nothing.
“She should matter because someone remembers him.”
She placed the reins into his hand.
“Take her.”
Ethan accepted.
Not because he needed the horse.
Because he understood what Serena was giving him.
Trust.
That night, he slept beneath a tree.
Serena watched him from the other side of the fire.
For the first time in years, she wondered what it might feel like to choose someone not because she needed saving.
But because she wanted him beside her.
The Attack
The attack came before dawn.
A rifle cracked.
Then another.
Men shouted.
Horses screamed.
Ethan woke instantly.
He grabbed his rifle and rolled behind a fallen log.
“Riders!”
Gunfire tore through the valley.
Chief Keona shouted orders.
Warriors moved between tents.
Women pulled children toward the trees.
Serena ran toward her father.
Ethan grabbed her arm.
“Stay low.”
“I can fight.”
“I know.”
“Then let go.”
He did.
She disappeared into the darkness.
Ethan fired toward the ridge.
One rider fell.
Another disappeared behind rocks.
Then Ethan heard a scream.
Serena.
He ran.
He found her near the river.
Three armed men were closing in.
Serena had already shot one.
Another raised his rifle.
Ethan fired.
The man dropped.
The third fled.
Serena stood breathing hard.
“You shouldn't have come.”
Ethan looked at her.
“I keep hearing that.”
She almost laughed.
Then she noticed blood on his shoulder.
“You're hurt.”
“Scratch.”
“Let me see.”
“Serena—”
“Sit.”
He sat.
She tore cloth from her sleeve and wrapped the wound.
Her hands were steady.
Ethan watched her.
“You're very calm.”
“I've seen worse.”
“So have I.”
She tightened the bandage.
“You're lying.”
“About what?”
“It hurts.”
“Yes.”
“Then stop pretending it doesn't.”
Ethan smiled.
“You always this bossy?”
“Only with men who are bleeding.”
A shout came from the camp.
They turned.
Chief Keona stood over a captured rider.
The man was alive.
And he was smiling.
“Tell Rusk,” Keona said, “he failed.”
The prisoner laughed.
“Rusk doesn't fail.”
He looked toward Serena.
“He only changes plans.”
Ethan's expression hardened.
“What plans?”
The prisoner smiled wider.
“Ask the girl.”
Everyone became silent.
Serena froze.
Ethan looked at her.
“What does he mean?”
She didn't answer.
Chief Keona did.
“Rusk knows about the land agreement.”
“What agreement?”
Keona looked away.
Ethan felt something cold settle in his stomach.
“What agreement?”
Finally Serena whispered,
“My father signed a treaty years ago.”
“With whom?”
“The federal land office.”
Ethan stared at her.
“And?”
“My father was promised protection for the valley.”
“But?”
“The treaty was never honored.”
Ethan understood.
Rusk wasn't trying to steal land illegally.
He was trying to prove the tribe had no legal claim to it.
And someone in the government was helping him.
The captured man laughed again.
“You're too late, cowboy.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“For what?”
“Tomorrow morning, the land surveyors arrive.”
A Choice in the Rain
Rain came the next day.
Cold Montana rain.
It turned the valley into mud and forced everyone beneath shelter.
Ethan sat inside a small wooden cabin with Serena.
A map lay between them.
“We need proof,” Ethan said.
“Of what?”
“That your father's treaty exists.”
“We have a copy.”
“Where?”
“Hidden.”
“Where?”
Serena looked toward the mountains.
“My mother hid it.”
“Why?”
“She didn't trust anyone.”
“Smart woman.”
“She hid it because she knew one day someone would come looking.”
Ethan studied the map.
“If we find it, we can take it to the territorial judge.”
“My father says the judge is already paid.”
“Then we'll find someone who isn't.”
Serena looked at him.
“You speak as though everything has an answer.”
“No.”
“Then why keep going?”
“Because giving up is usually the answer cowards choose before they know the question.”
She smiled.
“You really talk too much.”
“I've been told.”
Outside, thunder rolled.
Serena's expression changed.
“My mother hid the treaty near the old chapel.”
“Where?”
“Two miles south.”
“I'll go.”
“I'll come.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Serena—”
“I know the valley better.”
Ethan sighed.
“Fine.”
They rode through the rain.
The old chapel was abandoned, half-collapsed beneath pine trees.