Their eyes met.
Nathan could not explain what passed between them.
There was no gratitude.
No trust.
Only a question.
Why?
Nathan lifted his chin.
“Seventy-five.”
Silence.
Mercer stared at him.
“You're a fool.”
Nathan didn't look away from the platform.
“Probably.”
The auctioneer slammed his wooden hammer against the table.
“Sold!”
Applause erupted.
Nathan hated every sound of it.
The officer stepped forward and pulled the woman from the platform.
She stumbled once.
Then straightened.
The officer started leading her away.
Nathan followed.
“Take the cuffs off.”
The officer looked at him.
“They're government property.”
Nathan handed him the auction receipt.
“Then consider them returned.”
The officer laughed.
“You paid for her.”
Nathan's expression hardened.
“No.”
He looked directly at the officer.
“I paid to get her out of your hands.”
The officer shrugged.
“Same thing.”
Nathan shook his head.
“No. It isn't.”
He drew his knife.
The officer's hand went toward his revolver.
Nathan didn't move.
“Unlock them.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then the officer took out a key.
The iron fell away.
The woman rubbed her wrists.
Nathan stepped backward.
“You're free.”
She stared at him.
“You bought me.”
“No.”
“You paid seventy-five dollars.”
“Yes.”
“That is buying.”
Nathan looked toward the hills.
“I bought your freedom.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
She didn't believe him.
Nathan turned toward his horse.
“My name is Nathan.”
She watched him.
“Iona.”
He nodded.
“Iona.”
“How long do you expect me to believe you want nothing?”
Nathan mounted.
“I don't know.”
Then he rode away.
He assumed that was the end of it.
By sunset, half of Dry Creek would believe Nathan Cole had purchased an Apache wife.
By midnight, three armed men would be watching his ranch.
And before sunrise, Nathan would make a promise that would change both their lives.
The Woman Who Would Not Stay
Nathan found her tracks before sunset.
He had ridden nearly two miles north when something caught his attention beside the river.
Footprints.
Bare feet.
Heading west.
He stopped his horse.
Nathan knew what he should do.
Keep riding.
It wasn't his problem.
He had given her freedom.
What she did with it was no longer his concern.
But something bothered him.
The river was dangerous after dark.
The nearest settlement lay twelve miles away.
Nathan sighed.
“You're becoming a fool, Cole.”
He dismounted and followed the tracks.
He found Iona beneath a cottonwood tree.
She sat with her back against the trunk.
A faded cloth bundle rested in her lap.
Nathan stopped several yards away.
“You should keep moving.”
Iona looked up.
“You followed me.”
“To tell you to leave.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That makes no sense.”
“I never said I was making sense.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Nathan tossed a piece of bread toward her.
She caught it.
“I don't need food.”
“You're hungry.”
“I am not.”
“Eat anyway.”
She glared.
“I don't take orders.”
“Neither do I.”
For a moment, they stared at each other.
Then Iona broke the bread.
She ate slowly.
Nathan sat beneath another tree.
He gave her space.
After several minutes she asked, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you pay?”
Nathan looked toward the river.
“Because it was wrong.”
“You paid almost everything you had.”
“I know.”
“You needed that money.”
“Yes.”
“You needed a horse.”
“Yes.”
She frowned.
“Then you are foolish.”
Nathan nodded.
“That has been established.”
Iona looked down at the bundle.
Nathan noticed her fingers tightening around it.
“What is inside?”
“My mother's scarf.”
He said nothing.
“My family was attacked,” she continued.
Nathan turned toward her.
“Where?”
“Far west.”
“Are they alive?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you know where they went?”
“Yes.”
“Can you reach them?”
“Not alone.”
Nathan understood.
“You need a horse.”
“I need more than a horse.”
“What?”
“Time.”
Nathan looked at the darkening sky.
“You can have some.”
She looked suspicious.
“Why?”
“My ranch has a spare room.”
“I don't need charity.”
“It's not charity.”
“What is it?”
“A roof.”
“I don't trust you.”
Nathan stood.
“Good.”
She looked surprised.
“You should not trust strangers.”
“You are the stranger.”
Nathan nodded.
“Fair enough.”
He walked toward his horse.
“My ranch is three miles north.”
“You expect me to follow you?”
“No.”
“Then why tell me?”
“So you know where to go if you change your mind.”
He mounted.
“You can stay here or come with me.”
Then he rode away.
Iona watched him disappear.
She had met many men.
Men who shouted.
Men who demanded.
Men who believed money gave them rights.
Nathan Cole was different.
He gave her a choice.
That frightened her.
Choice meant she could no longer blame someone else for what happened next.
By nightfall, she followed him.
Nathan's ranch was small.