A farmhouse.
A barn.
A well.
A corral.
A dozen cattle.
A tired-looking windmill.
Iona stopped at the gate.
Nathan looked back.
“You changed your mind?”
“No.”
“Then why are you standing there?”
“I am deciding whether I made a mistake.”
Nathan smiled.
“So am I.”
That was the first time Iona laughed.
It was brief.
But Nathan remembered it.
That night she slept above the barn.
Nathan slept in the house.
Neither knew that three riders watched from the darkness.
One carried a rifle.
One carried a rope.
The third carried a revolver.
They had followed Iona from Dry Creek.
But they were not trying to return her.
They wanted something else.
They believed Nathan Cole had purchased something valuable.
And they intended to collect.
Two Strangers Under One Roof
The first weeks were uncomfortable.
Iona and Nathan behaved like two strangers trapped by circumstances.
They worked separately.
Nathan repaired fences.
Iona cleaned the barn.
Nathan fed the cattle.
Iona repaired harnesses.
They ate together only because there was no reason to cook two separate meals.
Their conversations were short.
“Pass the salt.”
“Thank you.”
“Storm coming.”
“I know.”
But gradually, the silence changed.
Iona discovered Nathan woke before dawn.
She discovered he drank black coffee.
He never drank whiskey.
He talked to horses when he thought nobody could hear.
Nathan discovered Iona could track an animal over bare stone.
She could identify rain by the smell of the wind.
She knew how to repair leather better than any ranch hand he had ever hired.
And she could shoot.
Very well.
One afternoon, Nathan returned from town carrying a newspaper.
Iona was repairing the western fence.
“You're getting better.”
“At the fence?”
“At staying.”
She looked at him.
“I have not decided whether I am staying.”
“I know.”
“You don't seem worried.”
Nathan folded the newspaper.
“I've spent most of my life watching things leave.”
Iona studied him.
“That sounds lonely.”
“It is.”
That evening they sat beside a small fire.
Nathan told her about his family.
“My father believed a man should never complain.”
“Did he?”
“Never.”
“And was he happy?”
Nathan smiled faintly.
“I don't think he knew how.”
“What about your brother?”
“Thomas wanted to leave.”
“Why didn't he?”
Nathan stared into the fire.
“He did.”
“What happened?”
“He came back.”
Iona waited.
“Cattle thieves shot him.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I am sorry.”
Nathan nodded.
“My mother never recovered.”
The fire cracked.
After a long silence, Iona said, “My father was different.”
“How?”
“He believed strength meant protecting people who could not protect themselves.”
Nathan looked at her.
“Sounds like a good man.”
“He was.”
“Is he alive?”
“I don't know.”
Nathan didn't ask more.
That was when Iona began to trust him.
Not because he rescued her.
Because he knew when to remain silent.
Men in the Darkness
The trouble began again in the third week.
Nathan returned from Dry Creek just before sunset.
Iona was feeding the horses.
“There are men asking about you,” he said.
She immediately turned.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“What did they say?”
“That you were stolen.”
Iona's expression hardened.
“They think I belong to them.”
Nathan shook his head.
“You belong to yourself.”
“Then why are they coming?”
“Because some men don't understand the difference between ownership and control.”
Iona stared at him.
“You believe they will come here?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Nathan looked toward the western ridge.
“Soon.”
They came that night.
The first gunshot shattered the kitchen window.
Nathan grabbed Iona and pulled her to the floor.
“Stay down.”
Another bullet struck the wall.
“How many?”
“Three. Maybe four.”
Iona reached beneath the blanket.
Nathan stared as she pulled out a revolver.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your saddlebag.”
“You stole my gun?”
“I borrowed it.”
Despite everything, Nathan almost laughed.
The back door exploded inward.
A man rushed through.
Iona fired.
The attacker fell.
Another man fired from outside.
Nathan returned fire.
The room filled with smoke.
A second attacker tried the window.
Iona shot him in the shoulder.
He dropped his weapon.
The third man fled.
Silence returned.
Nathan stood breathing heavily.
Iona lowered the revolver.
“You're bleeding.”
“So are you.”
She touched her cheek.
A small cut.
Neither had noticed.
“You saved me,” she whispered.
“You saved me first.”
She looked down.
“Then I suppose we're even.”
Nathan shook his head.
“No.”
“Why not?”
He stepped closer.
“Because I don't want to be even with you.”
Her eyes lifted.
“What do you want?”
Nathan didn't answer.
A wounded attacker groaned outside.
The moment disappeared.
But neither forgot it.
Silas Vane
The captured man gave them a name.
Silas Vane.
Nathan knew him.
Everyone in Dry Creek knew him.