The leather straps around her wrists had left red marks.
Bob removed a canteen.
"Water."
She hesitated.
Then took it.
She drank carefully.
"What is your name?"
She lowered the canteen.
"Elena."
"Last name?"
She looked away.
"Elena Cruz."
Bob nodded.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know."
Bob studied her.
"Do you have family?"
She was silent.
"My father is dead."
"Mother?"
"Dead."
"Brothers?"
She shook her head.
Bob waited.
"Anyone?"
"No."
He nodded.
"Then where were they taking you?"
She looked toward Red Creek.
"I don't know."
Bob frowned.
"You don't know?"
"They said I owed a debt."
"What debt?"
"My father's."
Bob's jaw tightened.
"How much?"
"Two hundred dollars."
Bob almost laughed.
"Two hundred?"
She nodded.
"My father borrowed money to keep our farm."
"And when he died?"
"They said the debt became mine."
Bob understood.
It was an old trick.
A debt.
A forged contract.
A desperate family.
A town willing to look away.
"What happened to your farm?"
"They took it."
"And then?"
"They took me."
Bob looked ahead.
The road stretched toward the horizon.
"You don't owe them anything."
Elena looked at him.
"You paid five dollars."
"I bought your freedom."
"No."
Bob turned.
"What?"
"You bought something else."
"What?"
She stared at him.
"My life."
Bob was silent.
He had not thought of it that way.
He had simply seen something wrong and stopped it.
But perhaps stopping one wrong did not mean the world had become right.
They continued riding.
By sunset, Elena could barely walk.
Bob pointed toward a line of cottonwoods.
"My ranch is another eight miles."
"I can walk."
"I know."
"I don't want to be a burden."
Bob looked at her.
"My wife used to say the same thing."
Elena looked at him.
"Your wife?"
"She's dead."
"I'm sorry."
Bob nodded.
"Me too."
He dismounted.
"Get on."
Elena stared.
"What?"
"Ride."
"What about you?"
"I'll walk."
She climbed into the saddle.
Bob took Duke's reins.
They continued toward the ranch.
Neither noticed the two riders watching them from the ridge.
Miller's Creek Ranch
Miller's Creek Ranch was small.
But it was quiet.
The house stood beside a narrow creek that only carried water during certain months.
A windmill turned slowly above the well.
A barn leaned toward the west.
A few cattle grazed beyond the fence.
Elena looked around.
"This is your home?"
Bob nodded.
"Yes."
"You live alone?"
"Mostly."
She looked at the empty porch.
"Where am I supposed to sleep?"
Bob pointed toward the house.
"Inside."
"And you?"
"I'll use the barn."
Elena frowned.
"No."
Bob looked at her.
"It's your first night."
"I can't take your bed."
"You can."
She shook her head.
"I won't."
Bob studied her.
Then he opened the door.
"There are two rooms."
Elena looked surprised.
"I thought you said you lived alone."
"I do."
"Then why two rooms?"
Bob paused.
"My son."
Elena understood.
"Daniel."
Bob nodded.
"He died."
"I'm sorry."
Bob walked toward the barn.
Elena watched him go.
Then she noticed something on the wall.
A child's wooden horse.
She touched it.
Dust covered its back.
She realized Bob had never moved it.
That night, Elena slept in Daniel's room.
Bob slept in the barn.
At sunrise, Elena woke to the sound of hammering.
She went outside.
Bob was repairing a fence.
"You don't sleep?"
"I do."
"When?"
"Night."
She smiled.
"You are a strange man."
"So I've been told."
She watched him work.
"What do you want from me?"
Bob stopped hammering.
"Nothing."
"Everyone wants something."
"I don't."
"Why?"
Bob looked at the horizon.
"Because I already lost everything once."
Elena did not know what to say.
So she picked up a hammer.
Bob looked at her.
"What are you doing?"
"Helping."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
She smiled.
"But I want to."
For the first time in years, Bob smiled back.
The Debt
Elena stayed for a week.
She cooked.
She cleaned.
She helped with the chickens.
She learned how to ride Duke.
Bob repaired the broken fence.
Neither mentioned the auction.
Neither mentioned what would happen next.
But peace did not last.