Ranger screamed and reared.
The gunman ran toward three waiting horses.
Elias drew his revolver.
One shot.
The bullet struck the ground near the man's boot.
The gunman mounted and disappeared into the hills.
Silence returned.
The woman stared at Elias.
"You could have killed him."
"Missed on purpose."
"Why?"
Elias holstered his revolver.
"Didn't know what he wanted."
She looked toward the hills.
"I do."
"What?"
"He wants this ranch."
Elias glanced at the broken fence.
"How long?"
"Three weeks."
"Who is he?"
"Caleb Rusk."
Elias's expression hardened.
He knew the name.
Everybody who had traveled the western territories for long enough knew it.
Rusk wasn't a common thief.
He was a cattle baron.
A land buyer.
A man who acquired property through threats, debts, forged papers, and sometimes bullets.
The woman lowered her rifle.
"My name is Clara Bennett."
"Elias Ward."
"I know."
Elias looked at her.
"How?"
"Because Caleb Rusk asked me yesterday whether I'd seen a man named Elias Ward."
The wind moved across the grass.
For the first time in ten years, Elias wished he had kept riding.
Clara Bennett
Clara Bennett led him inside.
The ranch house was small but carefully maintained.
A wooden table stood beneath the window. A cast-iron stove occupied one corner. Two chairs sat near the fireplace, and a shelf held six books, three tin cups, and a framed photograph.
Elias stopped when he saw the photograph.
A man stood beside Clara.
Older.
Broad-shouldered.
A rancher's face.
"Your husband?"
"My father."
Clara removed her rifle belt.
"Thomas Bennett."
"When did he die?"
"Six months ago."
Elias said nothing.
Clara poured coffee.
"He left me this ranch."
"And Rusk wants it."
"He wants the water."
Elias looked at her.
"The water?"
She nodded.
"There is a spring beneath the southern pasture. Best water for fifty miles. Rusk owns almost everything around it."
"Almost?"
"This is the last piece."
Elias understood.
If Rusk controlled Clara's land, he would control the valley.
"Why not sell?"
"Because my father spent thirty years building this place."
"That doesn't answer the question."
Clara looked at him.
"I don't want to sell."
Elias drank his coffee.
"You should leave."
"I thought you'd say that."
"Rusk won't stop."
"I know."
"He'll come back."
"I know that too."
"You can't fight a man like him alone."
Clara gave him a tired smile.
"Neither can you."
Elias looked at her.
She had noticed the scar beneath his jaw.
"What happened to you?" she asked.
"Nothing worth discussing."
"That's what people say when it matters."
Elias stood.
"I should go."
"Of course."
He walked outside.
Ranger was waiting.
Elias placed one boot in the stirrup.
Then he heard a rifle shot.
Clara shouted.
Elias turned.
Smoke rose from the hill.
A bullet struck the fence post beside his head.
Ranger bolted.
Elias swung into the saddle.
Three riders appeared along the ridge.
He could have ridden away.
Instead, he turned Ranger toward them.
He fired twice.
The riders disappeared.
Clara stood behind the barn.
"You said you were leaving."
"I changed my mind."
"Why?"
Elias looked at the broken fence.
"Because I don't like being shot at."
It was the first lie he had told her.
And she knew it.
The Stranger's Past
That night, Elias slept in the barn.
He told Clara it was because Ranger needed watching.
The truth was simpler.
He didn't sleep well under roofs anymore.
Near midnight, he woke to the sound of footsteps.
He reached for his revolver.
Clara stood outside the stall.