Ayana seemed to want neither.
She simply looked at him.
Running Wolf stepped forward.
"This is foolish."
Ayana turned.
"Why?"
"He is not one of us."
"He is a man."
"He is a stranger."
"So were you before you were born."
A few people laughed.
Running Wolf's jaw tightened.
Whitehawk raised one hand.
"Enough."
Then he looked at Ethan.
"You have not answered my question."
Ethan sighed.
"You asked what I was running from."
"Yes."
"Men."
"How many?"
Ethan's eyes moved toward the western horizon.
"Enough."
Whitehawk studied him.
"Are they following you?"
Ethan hesitated.
"Maybe."
The chief's expression changed.
That single word was enough.
He turned to his warriors.
"Watch the western trail."
Several men immediately moved.
Ayana looked at Ethan.
"You knew they might come."
"I didn't know where they were."
"Who are they?"
Ethan looked at her.
"Men who believe everything has a price."
She frowned.
"And what do they want?"
Ethan's answer was quiet.
"Me."
That evening, the village held no celebration.
The warriors who had arrived to compete for Ayana's hand remained.
Some were curious.
Some were angry.
Some suspected Ethan had manipulated Ayana.
Running Wolf was openly hostile.
But Ayana did not change her mind.
She sat beside the river with Ethan.
The sky turned orange.
"You really do not know why I chose you?" she asked.
"No."
"Do you want to know?"
"Yes."
She looked toward the water.
"I watched all the men today."
"I noticed."
"They wanted to show me what they could do."
Ethan smiled.
"That's usually how men behave."
"But you did not."
"I didn't know I was being watched."
"Exactly."
Ayana looked at him.
"You helped the child."
"Anyone would have."
"No."
She shook her head.
"Many men would have told him to stop crying."
Ethan was silent.
Ayana touched the turquoise pendant around her neck.
"My mother taught me that a man's character is revealed when nobody is watching."
Ethan looked away.
"I don't think I'm the man you think I am."
"I didn't say you were."
That answer stayed with him.
Later that night, Ethan slept near the edge of the village.
He woke before dawn.
Something was wrong.
The horses were restless.
He quietly reached for his revolver.
Then he heard it.
A faint sound from the ridge.
A bird call.
Two short notes.
One long.
Ethan froze.
He knew that signal.
It belonged to Caleb Mercer.
Ethan stepped into the darkness.
His eyes searched the ridge.
Nothing moved.
Then a small stone rolled down the slope.
Ethan's hand tightened around his revolver.
Someone was watching.
He whispered into the darkness.
"Mercer."
No answer.
But Ethan knew.
The past had found him.
And this time, it had followed him all the way to Ayana.
The Men From the Ridge
By sunrise, Ethan had made a decision.
He would leave.
He did not tell Ayana.
He did not tell Whitehawk.
He simply saddled his horse.
He believed distance could still protect them.
But Ayana found him.
"You are leaving."
It was not a question.
Ethan stopped tightening the saddle strap.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because people are coming."
"Who?"
"Men who don't care who gets hurt."
Ayana stepped closer.
"Then we will deal with them."
Ethan shook his head.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
He looked toward the village.
"There are six men on the ridge."
Ayana's eyes narrowed.
"You saw them?"
"I heard them."
She considered that.
"Six?"
"Maybe more."
"Are they yours?"
"No."
"Friends?"
"No."
"Enemies?"
Ethan looked at her.
"Yes."
Ayana folded her arms.
"Then why are you leaving?"
"Because they are looking for me."
"And they will stop if you leave?"
"I don't know."
"Then leaving may not solve anything."
Ethan stared at her.
"You don't know these men."
"No."
"They kill people who stand in their way."
"Then perhaps they should learn that our village is not their way."
Ethan almost smiled.
"You sound like your father."
"I take that as a compliment."
Before he could respond, a gunshot cracked across the valley.
The bullet struck the wooden post beside Ethan.
Everyone froze.
Then another shot.
This one hit the ground near Whitehawk's feet.
The village erupted into movement.
Children were pulled toward shelter.
Women moved behind the rock walls.
Warriors grabbed bows and rifles.
Ethan drew his revolver.
"Stay down!"
Ayana ignored him.
She grabbed her bow.
Whitehawk shouted orders.
The attackers appeared on the ridge.
There were eight.
They wore dust-covered coats and carried rifles.
At their center sat a man with silver at his temples.