"How long were you tied to that tree?" I asked. "Since dawn," she said, leaning back against the cave wall with a grace that didn't match her size. They said they were waiting for someone. Maybe a buyer." That word hit me like ice in my veins.
A buyer. I'd heard whispers about Varick Holt, not just robbery or killing, but something worse. Trafficking people. The kind of business that made even hardened outlaws sick to their stomach. "What did you see?" I asked.
"Why are they after you?" She stayed quiet for a moment, weighing me, deciding how much I was worth trusting. Then she spoke. "Three nights ago, I was hunting elk in the high country. I came across their camp.
I wasn't alone." Her voice tightened. "There were women, children, all tied up like animals. They saw me watching. I had to run."
She swallowed, pain flashing across her face. "There were others, at least a dozen. Some white, some Mexican, some from my own people, all young." She looked away. "All worth money to the right kind of buyer."
The cave fell silent, save for our breathing and the faint echo of hooves somewhere out there in the canyon. They were still searching, but they hadn't found us. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "For what they did to you, and what they're doing to the others." She looked at me then.
Really looked. Like she was trying to see past the dust, the scars, the man I'd been. "You're not like the men I've known," she said. "Why do you say that?" "Most men, my height makes them uneasy.
They fear me. Or they stare like I'm something strange." Her gaze softened just a little. "You look at me like I'm just a woman." "That's because you are," I said.
"A strong one. A beautiful one. And you deserve better than being tied to a tree by men like Varick Holt." Something shifted in her expression. Surprise, maybe.
Or the first spark of something deeper. When she smiled, it changed everything. Softened the edges. Lit her from within. And in a quiet voice, almost to herself, she said, "I think you might be a good man, Dax Calder."
"Don't trust me too much," I said. But for the first time in years, I found myself hoping she was right. We stayed hidden in that cave until the sounds of the chase faded into nothing. Still, it was clear Sihaya was running on empty. Three days on the run and a morning tied to a tree would wear down anyone, even someone as strong as her.
"There's a town about 10 miles east," I told her. "Cartwright. We could get you a room, some food, maybe talk to the territorial law." She shook her head right away. "Varick Holt owns the law in Cartwright, half the town council, too.
Going there would be walking into a trap." "Then where?" "There's another place, Willow Run, about 15 miles north. Small, but honest folk. My cousin lives there.