Elias opened the first page.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts of money.
Locations.
Then one name made his blood run cold.
Samuel Rourke.
The richest rancher in the county.
Elias knew him.
Everyone did.
Rourke owned thousands of acres.
He owned cattle.
He owned a grain warehouse.
He owned the general store.
And, according to the ledger, he owned something much darker.
Elias looked up.
"Where did you get this?"
"The mine."
"How many men were there?"
"I don't know."
"How many women?"
Ayana closed her eyes.
"Twenty-three."
Elias felt his stomach tighten.
Twenty-three.
He folded the ledger.
"We need to take this to the sheriff."
Ayana laughed bitterly.
"The sheriff works for Rourke."
Elias knew she was right.
The sheriff had eaten at Rourke's table for years.
He had accepted Rourke's money.
He had arrested men who challenged him.
He had ignored women who disappeared.
Elias stood.
"Then we'll find someone else."
Ayana looked at him.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why help me?"
He thought about the question.
Because he was a good man?
He wasn't sure.
Because he hated Rourke?
Partly.
Because twenty-three women deserved better?
Definitely.
But there was another reason.
One he did not yet understand.
"I don't know," he said.
Ayana studied his face.
Then she whispered the question that would follow them for months.
"Cowboy... do you just want my body like everyone else's?"
Elias froze.
The accusation was not loud.
It was worse than loud.
It was exhausted.
Broken.
Almost pleading.
He took a slow breath.
"No."
"Men always say no."
"I'm not asking you for anything."
She looked away.
"What do you want?"
"Your safety."
She shook her head.
"That's not what men want."
"Maybe I'm not every man."
Her eyes met his.
"No."
There was a strange sadness in her voice.
"You're not."
That night, neither slept.
At dawn, Elias buried the dead man's revolver in the yard.
Ayana watched from the porch.
"You killed someone?"
"No."
"Then whose gun is that?"
"A warning."
She frowned.
"For whom?"
"For anyone who comes looking for you."
Before she could answer, three riders appeared on the horizon.
Elias recognized the lead horse.
Rourke's men.
Ayana reached for the knife.
Elias stopped her with a gesture.
"Not yet."
"What do we do?"
"Let them believe you aren't here."
"They know."
"I know."
He walked outside.
The riders stopped at the fence.
One man called out.
"We're looking for a woman."
Elias leaned against the fence.
"There are a lot of women in Arizona."
"This one is Apache."
"Still doesn't narrow it down."
The rider smiled.
"Rourke wants her returned."
Elias's expression hardened.
"Tell Rourke he can come ask me himself."
The smile disappeared.
"You don't want that."
"No."
Elias looked at the man.
"But I'm beginning to think I want it very much."
The riders left.
Inside the cabin, Ayana stared at Elias.
"You just declared war."
He shook his head.
"No."
He looked toward the distant mountains.
"They did."
The following days transformed the ranch into a fortress.
Elias repaired the broken fence.
He moved supplies underground.
He prepared spare horses.
Ayana watched.
Then she began helping.
She knew plants.
She knew which roots could reduce swelling.
She knew how to read tracks.
She could move through the desert without leaving a trace.
Elias discovered that she was far more than the frightened woman he had found in the canyon.
She was intelligent.
Sharp.
Proud.
Sometimes infuriating.
She also laughed rarely.
But when she did, Elias found himself listening.
One evening, she found him repairing a saddle.
"You don't sleep."
"Neither do you."
"I sleep."
"You stare at the ceiling."
She looked offended.
"You were watching?"
"No."
"Then how do you know?"
"You talk in your sleep."
Her eyes widened.
"What do I say?"
Elias smiled.
"Mostly your husband's name."