"Men."
"How many?"
"I don't know."
"How long?"
"Maybe twenty minutes."
Daniel studied her face.
"You expecting them?"
"No."
"Then why do you know they're coming?"
The woman hesitated.
"Because they came last night."
Daniel dismounted.
The woman immediately raised the shotgun.
"I said don't come closer."
Daniel stopped beside Boone.
"I'm not coming closer."
"Then stay there."
He looked at the house.
"What's your name?"
"Elena Ward."
"I'm Daniel Mercer."
"I didn't ask."
"I know."
For the first time, something almost like amusement crossed her face.
Then a gunshot sounded in the distance.
Elena's expression changed.
Daniel turned toward the hills.
Another shot.
Closer.
He looked at the woman.
"How many people live here?"
"Three."
"Where are the others?"
"My younger brother is in the barn."
"And?"
"My son."
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
"How old?"
"Eight."
He looked toward the barn.
"Get them inside."
"They're already inside."
"Good."
Daniel mounted Boone again.
Elena stared at him.
"What are you doing?"
"Finding out how many men are coming."
"You don't have to."
Daniel looked back at her.
"I know."
He rode into the darkness.
He had intended to pass through the valley.
He had intended to keep moving.
But sometimes a man could spend eleven years running from the past only to discover that the next thing waiting on the road was a choice.
Daniel had made his.
He turned Boone toward the hills.
And waited.
The Men in Black Hats
Daniel found the first rider less than half a mile from the house.
The man was lying behind a boulder.
Dead.
Daniel dismounted.
The corpse wore a black hat.
There was blood on his shirt.
Daniel examined the ground.
Four sets of tracks.
No.
Five.
Five horses.
One dead rider.
That meant four remained.
Daniel looked toward the ridge.
The riders were coming slowly.
They weren't hiding.
That told him something.
They were confident.
Daniel mounted again.
He rode back toward the house.
Elena met him at the gate.
"You were right," he said.
She looked at his face.
"How many?"
"Four."
Her expression remained calm.
"Did you see their leader?"
"Not yet."
"His name is Silas Crowe."
Daniel had heard the name.
Everyone had.
Crowe was a cattle thief, land grabber, and killer.
He had never been convicted of anything because witnesses had a habit of disappearing.
"Why does he want your place?"
Elena looked toward the house.
"Because of what is underneath it."
Daniel waited.
She sighed.
"Water."
He looked at the dry land.
"There's no water."
"Not on the surface."
She walked toward the porch.
Daniel followed.
Elena pointed toward the foundation.
"My husband found an underground spring six months before he died."
Daniel looked at her.
"How did he die?"
"Accident."
She said the word too quickly.
Daniel noticed.
"You're lying."
Elena's eyes hardened.
"Be careful."
"I didn't say you killed him."
"You didn't have to."
Daniel leaned against the porch post.
"What happened?"
"My husband found water."
"And Crowe found out."
"Yes."
"Your husband died."
"Yes."
"Now Crowe wants the land."
"Yes."
Daniel looked at the house.
"How did your husband die?"
Elena stared toward the barn.
"My brother was there."
A young man stepped into view.
He looked nineteen or twenty.
Thin.