Her eyes widened.
"Here?"
"Yesterday. Before I reached your fence."
Eleanor stared.
"You were already here?"
"Near the old irrigation ditch. I hid it beneath a pile of stones."
"Where exactly?"
He described a low rock formation near the eastern wall.
Eleanor recognized it.
A place where Daniel used to stack spare fencing materials.
She stood.
"Then we need to retrieve it."
Nantan caught her wrist.
"Not in daylight."
She looked down.
"Why?"
"Creed will be watching."
Eleanor glanced toward the window.
The hills seemed empty.
But suddenly, every rock and shadow looked threatening.
She sat again.
"What do we do?"
Nantan drew a careful breath.
"First, I must survive."
Eleanor looked at the arrow.
"And for that, we need someone who knows how to remove this properly."
He nodded.
"There is a physician in San Rosario."
"Doctor Mercer?"
"Yes."
Eleanor looked surprised.
"You know him?"
"He has treated people from my family before."
She knew the doctor as a quiet man who treated anyone able to reach his clinic, often accepting payment in food or livestock.
He was one of the few people in the area she trusted.
But San Rosario lay nearly twenty miles away.
And Creed's men were watching the roads.
Eleanor looked at Nantan.
Then at the rifle beside the door.
"We'll need a different way to get him here."
Nantan studied her.
"You have a plan?"
"Not yet."
He smiled faintly.
"You sound like my sister."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Usually."
Eleanor almost laughed.
Then the smile faded.
"Your family must be worried."
Nantan looked toward the distant mountains.
"Yes."
"Can we send word?"
"Perhaps."
"How?"
He hesitated.
"There is a place near the northern ridge. A stone formation shaped like a broken tooth. A message can be left there."
Eleanor knew the landmark.
She had passed it during cattle drives.
"If I leave a note, someone will find it?"
"Possibly."
"Who?"
"My sister."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
"Does she have a name?"
"Salina."
"Can she be trusted?"
Nantan looked at her.
"More than I can trust myself."
Eleanor nodded.
"Then we'll send word tonight."
He watched her stand.
For several moments, his expression was unreadable.
Then he said, "Eleanor."
She turned.
"Yes?"
"You have already done more than anyone could ask."
She looked at the man lying wounded on her kitchen floor.
Then toward Daniel's photograph above the fireplace.
"Maybe."
She picked up the kettle.
"But I've never been especially good at stopping halfway."
Nantan smiled.
"Neither has my sister."
That night, Eleanor prepared the message.
She wrote slowly, choosing her words carefully.
Your brother is alive. He is wounded but sheltered. Men working for the railroad are searching for him. He needs a doctor. Come without drawing attention. — Eleanor Whitmore, Willow Creek Ranch.
She folded the paper twice.
Then wrapped it in oilcloth.
Nantan instructed her to place it beneath a flat stone on the western side of the formation.
"Do not leave tracks directly toward the mountains," he warned.
Eleanor looked at him.
"I'm a rancher, not an army scout."
"You can still be careful."
She smiled grimly.
"That I can."
Before leaving, she secured the house.
Placed water beside his mattress.
Moved the rifle within reach.
And checked the windows.
Nantan watched every movement.
"You do not have to go."
"Yes, I do."
"Creed may be watching."
"Then he'd better have good eyes."
Eleanor took Daniel's revolver from the drawer.
She had not worn it in years.
The leather holster felt strange against her hip.
She paused beside the door.
Nantan looked at her.
"You remind me of someone."
"Who?"
"My mother."
Eleanor blinked.
"Was she a difficult woman?"
"Very."
She smiled.
"Then I think I would have liked her."
Nantan's expression softened.
"She would have liked you."
Eleanor stepped into the darkness.
The moon was nearly full.
Its pale light stretched across the empty pasture.
She saddled her mare, Daisy, and rode north without using a lantern.
The night air smelled of dry grass and sage.
Coyotes called in the distance.
Every few minutes, Eleanor stopped to listen.
She heard nothing unusual.
But she could not shake the feeling of being watched.
After nearly an hour, she reached the broken-tooth formation.
It rose from the ground like a jagged monument.
Eleanor dismounted.
Found the western side.
And placed the message beneath a flat stone.
She was about to return to her horse when a voice came from the darkness.
"You are far from home, widow."
Eleanor froze.
A woman stepped from behind the rocks.
She was tall and lean, with dark braided hair and a rifle held loosely across her arms.
Two armed men stood several paces behind her.
Eleanor slowly lifted her hands.
The woman studied her.
"Why are you leaving messages here?"
Eleanor swallowed.
"Are you Salina?"
The woman's expression changed.
"Who asks?"
"Eleanor Whitmore."
Silence.
Then the woman stepped closer.
"Where is my brother?"
"At my ranch."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"Wounded?"
"Badly."
Salina's face tightened.
She looked toward the men behind her.
One murmured something Eleanor could not understand.