Gunfire erupted.
The remaining riders fired blindly into the darkness.
But darkness and dust were now Cole's allies.
He moved like a man who had spent years learning how to survive without being seen.
One outlaw went down.
Another fled.
Then Cole heard a shout behind him.
Not from the outlaws.
From the women.
The dark-haired woman had freed one hand.
She grabbed a fallen branch and struck a bandit across the wrist.
The blonde kicked another man hard in the knee.
The auburn-haired woman wrapped a loose wagon rope around a bandit's ankle and pulled with both hands.
The man fell face-first into the dirt.
Cole glanced at them.
For the first time that night, the corner of his mouth almost moved.
"Stay behind me," he ordered.
The dark-haired woman stared at him.
"We've been behind men all day."
She struck another outlaw with the branch.
"It hasn't helped."
Cole looked at her for half a second.
"Fair point."
Then he moved again.
When the dust settled, three outlaws were unconscious.
Two had escaped.
The wagon was broken.
The horses were gone.
And the three women were standing beneath a cold white moon.
Cole approached them.
The dark-haired woman lifted her chin.
"Who are you?"
"Cole Walker."
"Are you a lawman?"
"No."
"A bounty hunter?"
"No."
"Then why did you help us?"
Cole looked toward the darkness where the remaining outlaws had disappeared.
"Because five men against three women seemed like poor odds."
The blonde woman studied him.
"You risked your life for strangers."
Cole shrugged.
"Didn't seem like much of a choice."
The auburn-haired woman gave a quiet laugh.
"You're either very brave or very foolish."
Cole looked at the ruined wagon.
"Usually both."
The dark-haired woman extended her hand.
"Clara Bennett."
Cole shook it.
"Evelyn Hart."
The blonde woman offered hers.
Then the auburn-haired woman.
"Rose Mercer."
Cole noticed something about all three.
They wore mourning black beneath their torn clothing.
He frowned.
"You're widows."
The women exchanged looks.
Clara nodded.
"All three of us."
Cole looked toward Mercy Creek.
Something about that coincidence bothered him.
Three widows.
Three ranches.
One gang.
And a town that had suddenly become very quiet.
He did not yet know that by sunrise, he would be standing between the three women and the most powerful cattle syndicate in the territory.
Nor did he know that one of those women would eventually become the reason he stopped running from his own past.
For now, he simply picked up his rifle.
"Let's get you back to town."
Clara looked at him.
"You're coming with us?"
Cole mounted Ranger.
"I suppose I am."
"Why?"
He looked toward the dark road.
"Because whoever took you will come looking."
Clara's expression hardened.
"They already have."
Cole's pale eyes settled on her.
"Then we'll make sure they regret coming back."
Three Ranches
The women stayed at the Mercy Creek hotel that night.
Cole did not.
He slept in the stable beside Ranger.
He preferred animals.
They asked fewer questions.
At dawn, Clara found him saddling his horse.
"You haven't slept."
Cole tightened the cinch.
"Neither have you."
"I was wondering where you disappeared."
"Stable."
"You could have stayed at the hotel."
"I could have."
She studied him.
"Do you always answer questions with one word?"
"Only when they're easy."
Clara almost smiled.
Almost.
She was thirty-two, perhaps thirty-three, with dark brown hair and eyes that had lost their softness years before. Cole had seen women with courage before.
He had rarely seen it combined with exhaustion.
"We need to go home," she said.
"Where?"
"Bennett Ranch."
Cole nodded.
"I'll ride with you."
She hesitated.
"I didn't ask you to."
"No."
"Then why?"