Behind him were four armed men.
Mercer looked over the ranch.
"Nice place."
Thomas said nothing.
Mercer smiled.
"We heard you have cattle."
"I do."
"We heard you have water."
"I do."
"We heard you have money."
Thomas almost laughed.
"I don't."
Mercer looked amused.
"Everyone says that."
"I don't."
Mercer dismounted.
His boots struck the dirt.
"We're going to take some cattle."
"No."
The smile disappeared.
"What did you say?"
Thomas kept his rifle lowered.
"I said no."
One of Mercer's men laughed.
Mercer walked closer.
"You think you're going to stop five armed men?"
"No."
"Then why say no?"
"Because you asked."
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Mercer laughed.
"You've got courage."
Thomas shook his head.
"No. I just don't like thieves."
Mercer's men began spreading around the property.
Thomas understood.
This wasn't merely a threat.
They intended to take everything.
The cattle.
The horses.
Possibly the house.
Mercer pointed toward the barn.
"Take the animals."
Two men moved.
Thomas raised his rifle.
"Don't."
The men stopped.
Mercer looked at him.
"You'll fire?"
Thomas stared back.
"If you force me."
Mercer smiled again.
"Then I suppose we'll see."
But before anything happened, a distant sound rose from the hills.
A horse.
Then another.
Then several more.
Mercer turned.
One of his men whispered something.
The confidence in his face disappeared.
Thomas looked toward the darkness.
At first, he saw nothing.
Then a rider emerged between the mesquite trees.
Then another.
Then another.
Within seconds, shadows appeared on every side of the ranch.
Apache warriors.
Silent.
Mounted.
Watching.
Mercer slowly turned in a circle.
His gang had entered the ranch believing they were five men against one farmer.
They suddenly realized they were surrounded.
Thomas lowered his rifle.
He was as surprised as Mercer.
One Apache rider moved forward.
An older man.
Thomas recognized him.
The traveler who had once brought his sick horse to the ranch.
The man looked at Thomas.
Then at Mercer.
He said something in Apache.
Mercer didn't understand.
But the meaning was clear.
Leave.
Now.
Mercer swallowed.
He looked around.
There were too many rifles.
Too many riders.
Too many directions from which danger could come.
Finally, he raised one hand.
"Let's go."
His men hesitated.
"Now!" Mercer shouted.
They turned their horses.
Within minutes, the gang disappeared into the desert.
The Apache remained.
Thomas stared at them.
"Why?"
The older leader dismounted.
He walked toward Thomas.
For a moment, neither man spoke.
Then the Apache touched the bracelet Thomas had once been given.
Thomas looked down at his own wrist.
He had kept it all those years.
The leader smiled faintly.
"You gave water," he said in broken English.
Thomas frowned.
"That was a long time ago."
The man nodded.
"We remember."
Then he turned away.
Thomas watched the riders disappear into the darkness.
That night, he barely slept.
He understood something.
The desert had a memory.
And sometimes, so did people.
The Debt Thomas Never Knew Existed