The warriors looked toward the soldiers.
Nobody moved.
Finally, Captain Rourke lowered his pistol.
"Fall back."
The soldiers withdrew.
Thomas watched them disappear.
Anpetu looked at him.
"You chose."
Thomas shook his head.
"No."
He looked at the empty road.
"I just refused to let someone else choose for me."
That night, the chief came to the farmhouse.
Only five warriors accompanied him.
Anpetu translated.
He thanked Thomas.
Thomas shook his head.
"I didn't do much."
The chief spoke.
Anpetu smiled.
"He says that is not true."
The chief walked toward the grave.
He studied the stone.
Then he placed something beside it.
A small bundle of dried flowers.
Thomas looked at him.
"For Anna?"
The chief nodded.
Thomas felt his throat tighten.
"Why?"
Anpetu answered.
"My father says every woman who dies deserves to be remembered."
Thomas looked at the chief.
For the first time, he saw something beyond the warrior.
He saw a father.
A widower.
A man who had buried people.
A man who understood grief.
Thomas lowered his head.
"Thank him."
Anpetu translated.
The chief looked at Thomas.
Then said one final thing.
Anpetu smiled.
"He says you are no longer being watched."
Thomas laughed.
"That's good."
"No."
Anpetu looked toward the hills.
"He says now you are being protected."
Thomas looked at her.
"I didn't ask for protection."
"You gave water without asking permission."
He smiled.
"Fair enough."
The chief left.
Anpetu remained.
They stood beneath the stars.
"Are they all leaving?"
"Tomorrow."
"Where?"
"North."
"Will I see you again?"
She looked at him.
"Do you want to?"
Thomas hesitated.
"Yes."
"Then you will."
She mounted her horse.
Thomas watched her ride toward the hills.
At the edge of the valley, she stopped.
She turned.
For a moment, their eyes met across the distance.
Then she disappeared.
Thomas returned to the farmhouse.
He expected the valley to feel empty.
Instead, it felt changed.
Something had happened here.
Something that could not be undone.
Winter arrived early.
The first snow came in October.
By November, Thomas's wheat stores were nearly gone.
The general store still refused to sell to him.
But one morning, a young Lakota rider appeared with sacks of corn.
Thomas stared.
"I can't pay."
The rider shook his head.
He pointed toward the hills.
Thomas understood.
He accepted.
That became the beginning of something unexpected.
Food arrived.
Then medicine.
Then a bundle of firewood.
The warriors did not live on Thomas's land.
They did not claim it.
They simply watched from a distance.
The arrangement was never spoken aloud.
But it existed.
And Thomas discovered that the frontier was more complicated than the stories told in town.
Not every Lakota wanted war.
Not every settler wanted conquest.
Not every soldier wanted blood.
And not every person could be placed into the categories people invented when they were frightened.
One afternoon, Anpetu returned.
She was wearing a heavy winter cloak.
Thomas was repairing the barn roof.
She looked up.
"You will fall."
"I'm not falling."
"You are standing on a broken ladder."
Thomas looked down.
The ladder was, in fact, broken.
"That's unfortunate."
Anpetu shook her head.
"You are stubborn."
"You told me that before."
"I was correct."
Thomas climbed down.
They spent the afternoon repairing the roof together.
Snow began falling.
Anpetu looked toward the mountains.
"My people will leave in spring."
Thomas stopped.
"Where?"
"North."
"Will you go?"
She nodded.
Thomas looked away.
He suddenly understood that the friendship they had built was temporary.
The frontier had a way of taking people away.
"Will you return?"
Anpetu was silent.
"I don't know."
Thomas nodded.
He wanted to say something.
He did not.
Instead, he handed her a hammer.
She smiled.
"Very romantic."
Thomas laughed.
"I've never been accused of romance."
"Perhaps you should try."
He looked at her.
She was smiling.
The snow fell harder.