Still nothing.
Elias pulled the rifle from beside the wall.
“Listen carefully. You rode onto my land bleeding. You collapsed in my yard. You told me armed men were coming. Now there are hundreds outside.”
The stranger slowly sat up.
“My name is Tomas Reed.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“It should.”
Elias stared.
“Why?”
Tomas looked toward the door.
“Because your father knew me.”
Elias froze.
“My father died twenty years ago.”
“I know.”
“You knew him?”
Tomas nodded.
“He saved my life.”
Elias felt his grip tighten around the rifle.
“My father never mentioned you.”
“He couldn't.”
“Why?”
“Because he was killed before he could.”
Silence filled the cabin.
Elias remembered his father's death.
The official story had always been simple.
Nathan Boone had been attacked by bandits while returning from Prescott.
His body was found beside a dry riverbed.
His horse was missing.
The sheriff called it robbery.
Elias had been fourteen.
He had believed it.
For years.
Until he became old enough to understand that the story had never made sense.
His father had been a cautious man.
He carried little cash.
He had no reason to take that road.
And the one thing missing from his belongings had been a leather notebook.
“What did my father save you from?”
Tomas looked at him.
“Your father discovered what they were doing.”
“Who?”
“The men who are coming.”
Elias glanced toward the ridges.
“You mean the Apache?”
Tomas shook his head.
“No.”
“Then why are they here?”
Tomas swallowed.
“They're not here for me.”
“Then who?”
Tomas pointed toward Elias.
“You.”
At sunrise, Elias walked outside.
The first thing he noticed was the silence.
No birds.
No cattle lowing.
Even the wind seemed to have stopped.
Three hundred Apache warriors stood around the valley.
They did not shout.
They did not fire.
They simply waited.
Most carried rifles.
Some carried bows.
Many wore traditional clothing mixed with pieces of military uniforms.
At the center of them stood an old man on a black horse.
His hair was silver.
His face was deeply lined.
He wore a red scarf around his neck.
Elias raised his hands.
“I don't want trouble.”
The old man looked at him.
Then at the cabin.
Then back at Elias.
He spoke in English.
“Where is Tomas Reed?”
Elias's jaw tightened.
“He's alive.”
The old man dismounted.
Two warriors followed him.
He walked toward Elias.
“My name is Chief Mateo Aranda.”
Elias had heard the name.
Everyone in the territory had.
Aranda was said to have led raids across the border.
He was said to have killed soldiers.
He was said to have disappeared into the mountains whenever the army came looking.
But standing before Elias, he did not look like a monster.
He looked tired.
Very tired.
“Why do you want Tomas?”
The chief studied him.
“Because he carries something stolen from my people.”
Elias shook his head.
“He didn't steal anything.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
Elias looked toward the cabin.
“But I know he was dying.”
The chief's expression changed slightly.
“You gave him water.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he was dying.”