“Where?”
“Near the eastern mountains.”
Tala's breath stopped.
“My mother?”
Jonah looked at her.
“You knew her?”
“My mother was named Sika.”
Jonah went still.
“My wife called her Sika.”
Tala sat beside him.
For the first time, Jonah looked emotional.
“She gave my wife this.”
He removed a small piece of embroidered cloth.
Tala touched it.
She knew the pattern.
Her mother's hands had made it.
Her fingers trembled.
“She is alive?”
Jonah looked down.
“I don't know.”
Tala's eyes filled with tears.
“You said she helped your wife.”
“She did.”
“What happened to her?”
Jonah's silence was answer enough.
Tala closed her hand around the cloth.
That night, she cried for the first time since her capture.
Not because she had lost her mother.
Because for the first time, she had proof that someone else remembered her.
Months passed.
The ranch became familiar.
Tala began riding every morning.
She learned the names of the horses.
She learned where the water ran after rain.
She repaired fences.
She planted beans.
She began laughing again.
Jonah noticed.
He never mentioned it.
One afternoon, Tala asked him about his wife.
Jonah sat on the porch repairing a bridle.
“She was called Mary.”
“Was she kind?”
“Yes.”
“Were you happy?”
Jonah looked at the mountains.
“Yes.”
“Then why are you alone?”
His hands stopped.
“She died.”
“I am sorry.”
“So am I.”
They sat in silence.
After a while, Jonah said:
“She taught me that a house can survive without a person.”
Tala looked at him.
“But?”
“But it doesn't mean the house is still a home.”
That sentence stayed with her.
Winter came.
The ranch was covered in frost one morning.
Tala woke early and saw Jonah standing outside.
He was looking toward the road.
A group of riders approached.
More than ten.
Tala knew immediately.
Black Mesa.
She ran outside.
Jonah was already reaching for his rifle.
“How many?”
“Ten.”
“No.”
“More behind the ridge.”
Jonah looked at her.
“You need to go.”
“Where?”
“South.”
“I won't leave.”
“You will.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
For the first time since they had met, his voice became sharp.
“This isn't an argument.”
Tala stepped closer.
“It is my life.”
Jonah froze.
She continued.
“You told me I could choose.”
“Yes.”
“Then don't choose for me.”
The riders came closer.
Hutchins was at the front.
Beside him were two armed men.
Behind them were soldiers.
Jonah looked at Tala.
Then he lowered his rifle.
“Stay behind the house.”
“No.”
“Tala.”
“No.”
She stood beside him.
The riders stopped at the gate.
Hutchins shouted.
“You have something that belongs to Black Mesa!”
Tala stepped forward.
“I belong to myself.”
The silence that followed was enormous.
Hutchins stared at her.
Then he laughed.
“You think the law protects you?”
Tala answered:
“I think the law has your name on it.”
Jonah looked at her.
She held the papers.
All of them.
The original sale.
The affidavit.
The territorial order.
Every document Hutchins had forgotten existed.
She lifted them.