He stared at her.
"You rejected one hundred and twelve men?"
"One hundred and thirteen."
He nearly choked.
"There was another?"
"Yesterday."
"And his answer was apparently to gather an army."
"He was not creative."
Despite himself, Elias laughed.
The sound surprised them both.
Because he had not laughed like that in years.
Naya noticed.
The amusement faded from her expression.
"You should not become involved."
"It seems a little late."
"They will attack."
"Probably."
"They may kill you."
"Also possible."
She stared.
He shrugged.
What else was there to say?
Fear had lost much of its power over him long ago.
A man who buried everyone he loved eventually stopped worrying about his own death.
That realization appeared to disturb Naya more than the approaching riders.
The afternoon passed slowly.
By evening the ranch was surrounded.
Small groups occupied hillsides and ridges.
Watching.
Waiting.
Planning.
Elias checked the windows.
Secured ammunition.
Moved horses to safer pastures.
Naya helped despite her injury.
She ignored every suggestion that she should rest.
Finally he said, "You're impossible."
"No."
"You absolutely are."
She crossed her arms.
"You sound annoyed."
"I am."
Her eyes sparkled.
"Good."
Elias shook his head.
There was something strange about her.
She carried danger around like other women carried jewelry.
Yet beneath the toughness was warmth.
Intelligence.
Humor.
He could see why men noticed her.
What he could not understand was why so many had responded to rejection by becoming idiots.
Sunset arrived.
The first rider appeared carrying a white flag.
Negotiations.
Temporary civility before violence.
The rider stopped fifty yards away.
"Mercer!"
Elias stepped onto the porch.
"What?"
The rider pointed.
"We came for the woman."
"Then leave disappointed."
Several nearby men laughed.
The rider did not.
The expression on his face darkened.
"She belongs with her people."
For the first time Naya stepped forward beside Elias.
"I belong to myself."
The statement hit harder than any shouted threat.
The rider glared.
"You shame your tribe."
"No."
"You shame your family."
"No."
"You shame our traditions."
Naya's eyes hardened.
"I shame men who confuse control with honor."
Silence followed.
Even the rider appeared uncertain how to respond.
Finally he turned his horse.
"This ends tonight."
"Perhaps," Elias answered.
The rider left.
Neither Elias nor Naya moved for several moments.
Darkness was approaching.
And with it, battle.
"It's going to happen," she said quietly.
"I know."
"You can still leave."
Elias looked at her.
"My ranch?"
"You could save yourself."
Something flashed across his face.
Not anger.
Disappointment.
"You still don't understand."
"What?"
"The moment I carried you into this house, I made a choice."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"What choice?"
"That nobody would hurt you while I still had a say in it."
For a moment she couldn't speak.
Nobody had ever said anything quite like that to her.
Not because they wanted something.
Not because they expected something.
Simply because they believed it.
Night settled over Mercer Ranch.
And somewhere in the darkness, the first arrow took flight.
The first arrow struck the porch column so hard that splinters exploded into the night air.
Elias reacted instantly.
"Down!"
Naya was already moving.
A second arrow slammed into the side of the house.
Then a third.
Within seconds gunfire erupted from the darkness beyond the ranch.
The peaceful valley transformed into chaos.
Elias dropped behind a water trough and returned fire toward a flash of muzzle light near the ridge. The crack of his rifle echoed across the property.
Someone cried out.
Another shot came from the hills.
Wood splintered above his head.
For a brief moment he glanced toward the porch.
Naya had vanished.
A surge of panic hit him.
Then he saw her.
She wasn't hiding.
She was stalking across the shadows near the barn.
Bow in hand.
Moving with terrifying confidence.
An attacker emerged from behind a fence line.
Before the man could lift his weapon, an arrow struck his shoulder.
He collapsed with a scream.
Naya disappeared again.
Elias almost laughed.
The men outside believed they were hunting a wounded woman.
Instead they had released a wolf into their ranks.
The battle lasted nearly three hours.
Shots echoed through the darkness.
Horses screamed.
Men shouted orders.
Yet the attack slowly collapsed.
The defenders refused to break.
And every time the attackers tried to advance, another arrow appeared from nowhere.
Near midnight the firing finally stopped.
Silence returned.
The same silence Elias had noticed that morning.
Only now it felt different.
Earned.
He remained alert for another thirty minutes before lowering his rifle.
The attack was over.
For tonight.
At least.
Exhausted, he walked toward the porch.
Naya sat on the wooden steps.
Moonlight illuminated her face.
There was dirt on her cheek and blood on her sleeve, though none of it appeared to be hers.
"You should be resting."
She looked up.
"You too."
"My argument sounds better coming from me."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"I disagree."
Elias sat beside her.
For a time neither spoke.
They simply listened to the wind moving through the grass.
Then Naya surprised him.
"Tell me about her."
He turned toward her.
"Who?"
"Your wife."
The question pierced straight through old armor.
He stared toward the valley.
Remembering.
"It has been a long time since anyone asked."
"Then perhaps it is time."
Elias released a slow breath.
"Her name was Clara."
The name alone brought a hundred memories.
Sunlight.
Laughter.
Music drifting through the ranch house.
Dreams that once felt possible.
"She loved this place."
His voice softened.
"The ranch?"
"No."
A sad smile appeared.
"Me."
Naya remained silent.
Allowing him to continue.
"Most people thought ranch life would make her miserable."
"What happened?"
"Fever."
The single word carried years of pain.
Naya lowered her gaze.
"I am sorry."
"So was I."
The answer came before he could stop it.
Both of them understood the meaning.
He wasn't sorry anymore because grief still existed.
He was sorry because loving her had been worth losing her.
And losing her had nearly destroyed him.
More silence followed.
Then Naya said quietly,
"In my tribe, we say a person dies twice."
Elias looked at her.
"The first death is when the body fails."
"And the second?"
"The second comes when nobody speaks their name anymore."
He thought about that.
Then smiled.
"Clara would like that."
Naya nodded.
"Then keep speaking her name."
The following morning brought sunshine.
And exhaustion.
The attackers had retreated, but neither Elias nor Naya believed the danger was over.
They spent the day repairing damage.
Replacing broken boards.
Checking livestock.
Preparing for another assault.
At first they worked separately.
Then together.
The ranch was large, and shared labor made the tasks easier.
As the hours passed, they slipped into a surprisingly comfortable rhythm.
Elias fixed fences.
Naya carried supplies.
They exchanged jokes.
Occasionally insults.
Mostly both.