Now he understood.
The fence wasn't the problem.
The fence was the reason he had noticed the problem.
Someone was testing the boundaries.
And Elias knew exactly what came next.
He spent the next few days teaching them what he knew.
Not how to become killers.
How to survive.
How to recognize tracks.
How to secure doors.
How to keep water protected.
How to move through the property without exposing themselves.
How to stay calm.
Nielli learned quickly.
Aiona learned faster.
One evening, Aiona asked him about his past.
Elias sat beside the fire.
"I made a mistake once."
"What kind?"
"The kind you don't get to undo."
She waited.
He continued.
"I was supposed to protect a group of people."
"And?"
"I failed."
"Did they die?"
Elias looked at the fire.
"Some."
Aiona didn't ask for names.
She didn't ask what happened.
She simply said, "You can't spend the rest of your life paying for one night."
Elias looked at her.
"Who says?"
"I do."
For the first time in years, Elias wanted to believe someone.
Then came the smoke.
Two thin columns rose from opposite sides of the valley.
Signals.
Elias saw them from the roof of the barn.
Nielli saw them too.
"They're coming."
Aiona's voice was calm.
"Then we prepare."
They secured the cabin.
Moved supplies.
Checked the horses.
Covered the windows.
Prepared water.
Elias inspected every corner of the property.
By sunset, the valley had become unnaturally quiet.
No birds.
No cattle sounds.
No wind.
Then came the horses.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
Riders emerged from the timber.
At the front was a scarred man with cold eyes.
He stopped beyond the fence.
"You're making this difficult."
Elias stood on the porch.
"Turn around."
The man laughed.
"You don't own this place."
Elias glanced behind him.
Aiona stood near the window.
Nielli held a rifle.
"They do."
The man's smile disappeared.
"You're willing to die for them?"
Elias thought about it.
Then answered.
"I'm willing to stay."
The difference was important.
The scarred man ordered his men forward.
Three riders moved toward the fence.
Aiona raised her rifle.
"Stop."
They kept coming.
Then a gunshot cracked across the valley.
But it didn't come from the cabin.
A bullet struck the ground in front of the lead horse.
The animal reared.
The rider fell.
Then a voice thundered from the ridge.
"Federal marshal! Drop your weapons!"
Six lawmen emerged from the trees.
At their front was Marshal Henry Cole.
The scarred man's face went pale.
Elias recognized the marshal.
Cole had been tracking this gang for months.
Horse theft.