Juniper snorted.
"I know."
Hoofbeats approached.
Catherine lifted her rifle.
A rider appeared.
Not one of the two men.
Samuel Bell.
She stared.
"What are you doing here?"
"Trying to keep you alive."
"I didn't ask."
"No."
He dismounted.
"I noticed."
Catherine kept her rifle raised.
"Why follow me?"
"Because I have buried enough people."
"That's not an answer."
Samuel looked toward the canyon.
"They aren't ordinary thieves."
"Neither am I."
"I noticed that too."
A gunshot sounded in the distance.
Samuel looked toward the canyon.
"We need to move."
Catherine nodded.
They led Juniper through a dry wash until they reached an abandoned stone shelter.
Inside, Catherine checked her ammunition.
Samuel checked the mare.
"She's lucky."
"So am I."
"Doesn't look like it."
Catherine looked at him.
"Luck is for people who don't prepare."
He smiled.
"Thomas used to say that?"
Catherine froze.
"You knew him?"
"Once."
"Where?"
"At a trading camp near Amarillo."
"When?"
"Four years ago."
She lowered the rifle.
"What did he say?"
Samuel looked uncomfortable.
"He said his wife was smarter than him."
Catherine stared.
"He said that?"
"Frequently."
For the first time that day, her expression softened.
Then a voice came from outside.
"You can't hide forever!"
Catherine raised her rifle.
Samuel whispered, "How many?"
"Two."
"How do you know?"
"Because three horses came into the canyon."
Samuel looked at her.
"You counted?"
"Yes."
"What happened to the third?"
Catherine looked toward the darkness.
"I don't know."
A twig snapped.
Samuel turned.
Catherine raised one finger.
Silence.
Then a shadow moved outside.
She fired.
A man cried out.
Samuel stepped toward the doorway.
"Stay back."
Catherine grabbed his sleeve.
"Wait."
"What?"
"Listen."
Hoofbeats.
Not one horse.
Several.
Then another sound.
A whistle.
Samuel's face changed.
"What?"
"That's Vane's signal."
Catherine stared at him.
"You've heard it before?"
"Once."
"Where?"
Samuel swallowed.
"At Ruth Mallory's place."
Catherine understood.
The danger wasn't coming from the road.
It was coming from the law.
She looked at the rifle in her hands.
Then at Samuel.
"Tell me everything."
Samuel sat down.
"I can't."
"You can."
"I don't have proof."
"I didn't ask for proof."
He looked toward the doorway.
Then he spoke.
"Ruth Mallory wasn't the first."
Catherine listened.
"There were others. Widows. Old ranchers. Men with land but no family nearby."
"And Vane?"
"Always nearby."
"What does he want?"
"Land."
Catherine's eyes hardened.
"And mine?"
Samuel nodded.
"Your husband refused to sell."
She remembered.
Three months before Thomas died, a stranger had come to their cabin.
Thomas had refused him.
The stranger had offered twice.
Thomas had still refused.
The stranger had left angry.
At the time, Catherine thought it was about money.
Now she wasn't so sure.
"What is on my land?"
Samuel looked at her.
"Water."
She stared.
"The river?"
"An underground spring."
Catherine remembered Thomas digging behind the eastern ridge.
He had found something.
He had refused to tell her.
He had said only, "If anyone asks, we never found anything."
A chill moved through her.
Samuel continued.
"Vane has been trying to obtain the land for years."
"And Thomas?"
"He wouldn't sell."
"He died of fever."
"I know."
Catherine's voice became quiet.