"I'd like to speak privately."
"You can speak here."
Voss glanced at Clara.
"I believe you're sheltering someone who belongs to me."
Clara's face went pale.
Thomas looked up.
"She's not property."
Voss smiled.
"Everyone belongs to someone."
Thomas stood.
"No."
Voss studied him.
"You are a poor man."
Thomas shrugged.
"I have enough."
"You own forty acres."
"Forty-three."
Voss laughed.
"You raise cattle on land barely worth the tax."
"Still mine."
"You struggle every year."
"Sometimes."
"You could sell."
"Don't want to."
Voss stepped closer.
"I can give you money."
Thomas shook his head.
"Don't need it."
"A new house."
"No."
"More cattle."
"No."
"A hundred acres."
Thomas looked at him.
"Why?"
Voss's smile vanished.
"Because I want the woman."
Thomas understood.
Voss had expected greed.
Instead he found a man who could not be bought because he had never learned to measure his life in things he owned.
Thomas said quietly:
"You should leave."
Voss's men moved.
Thomas's hand rested near his revolver.
Clara stepped forward.
"Stop."
Voss smiled again.
"You see? She understands."
Clara looked at him.
"No."
She turned to Thomas.
"I understand now."
"What?"
"Why my father trusted you."
Voss looked between them.
Then he laughed.
"You'll regret this."
Thomas watched him ride away.
Clara stood beside him.
"You aren't afraid?"
Thomas looked toward the horizon.
"I am."
"Then why do you keep doing this?"
Thomas answered:
"Because someone has to."
Boone
That night, Boone disappeared.
Thomas noticed at sunset.
The dog had always returned before dark.
He whistled.
Nothing.
Thomas took a lantern.
Clara followed.
They found Boone near the creek.
He had been shot.
Not badly.
The bullet had grazed his shoulder.
But there was blood.
Thomas knelt.
"Boone."
The dog licked his hand.
Clara covered her mouth.
"They're warning us."
Thomas looked toward the hills.
"No."
"What?"
"They're testing us."
Thomas carried Boone home.
For the first time Clara saw anger in his face.
Not loud anger.
Something colder.
The kind that came from a man who had spent years avoiding violence.
Thomas cleaned the wound.
Clara held the lantern.
"Will he live?"
"Yes."
She exhaled.
Thomas looked at the bullet.
"That came from a Winchester."
"How do you know?"
"My father taught me guns."
He stood.
"I'm going into town."
"Why?"
"To see Mercer."
"Now?"
"Now."
Clara grabbed his sleeve.
"Don't go alone."
Thomas looked down at her hand.
She released him.
"I'm sorry."
Thomas smiled.
"You don't have to be."
Then he said something that surprised her.
"You can come."
They rode together beneath a sky filled with stars.
Neither spoke.
But their shoulders nearly touched.
And neither moved away.
The Secret Beneath the Barn
When they returned before dawn, the barn was burning.
Thomas jumped from Copper.
"Clara, stay back!"
Flames climbed the wooden walls.
Cattle screamed.
Thomas ran inside.
He released the animals one by one.
Clara opened the gates.
Boone barked from the porch.
Then the roof began collapsing.
Thomas saw a shadow near the root cellar.
A man.
Thomas chased him.
The stranger fired.
Thomas ducked.
The man disappeared into the darkness.
Thomas returned to the barn.
The cellar door was open.
The papers were gone.
Clara stood frozen.
"My father's evidence."
Thomas looked at the burned barn.
"They took it."
"No."
She sank to her knees.
Thomas knelt beside her.
"Clara."
"I failed him."
"No."
"My father trusted me."
"You didn't fail him."
"I lost everything."
Thomas gently took her hand.
"No."
She looked up.
"You still have me."
The words escaped before Thomas could stop them.
Clara stared at him.
Thomas looked away.
"I mean—you still have someone willing to help."
Clara smiled through tears.
"I know what you meant."
Thomas did not answer.
For the first time, neither of them pretended their feelings were nothing.
Three Days
The federal marshal was due in two days.
But Voss moved faster.
By morning, a notice arrived.
Thomas Hale was accused of stealing cattle.
A warrant had been issued.
The sheriff came personally.
Daniel Mercer looked miserable.
"Thomas."
Thomas read the paper.
"Forgery."
"Yes."
"Whose cattle?"
"Voss's."
Thomas laughed.
"I've never owned one of his."
Mercer looked at Clara.
"There's more."
"What?"
"Someone claims Clara stole money."
Clara closed her eyes.
Voss had created the story perfectly.