"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.
She married a rancher 5 years ago." As we prepared to leave the cave, I caught myself watching her. How she moved, how natural it all looked, even with her height. Everything about her challenged things I'd never thought to question. "Sihaya," I said as we reached the entrance.
"Why do you trust me? I could be working for Holt." She rested a hand on Gravewind's neck and looked at me like she could see straight through my bones. "Because when you cut those ropes," she said quietly, "your hands were shaking. Not from fear, from anger at what they'd done to me."
She was right. Men who sell people don't get angry over suffering. I hadn't even realized she'd noticed. But seeing her tied up like that had stirred something in me I thought was long dead. And it wasn't just that.
It was the way she looked at me. No fear, no suspicion. None of that usual mix I'd grown used to seeing in people's eyes. "There's something else you should know," I said once we were riding again, "about me." "What is it?"
"I'm not just some drifting cowboy. There was a time I made my living with these guns. Not always on the right side of the law." She stayed quiet for a moment, letting it sink in. "And now?" she asked.
"Now I'm trying to be different, someone better." "That's good," she said softly, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Because the man I saw today, Dax Calder, he's exactly the man I hoped to find." As we rode toward Willow Run, my mind drifted to everything I'd spent years avoiding. What it might mean to stop running, to build something real with someone.
For the first time since I was old enough to carry a gun, the future felt like something worth thinking about. But first, we had to survive long enough to reach it. The ride to Willow Run took us through some of the finest country I'd ever seen. Rolling hills painted with wild flowers, cold, clear streams cutting through the land, mountains rising like cathedral walls beneath an endless sky. And still, I couldn't shake the feeling we were being watched.
"Holt has more men than just those three," Sihaya said, as if she'd read my thoughts. "His network stretches across three territories. Someone's probably already riding ahead to cut us off." "How do you know so much about his operation?" I asked. She didn't answer right away.
I could feel the tension in her as she leaned against me. "Because my brother worked for him," she said at last, "before he understood what Holt really was." My grip tightened slightly on the reins. "What happened to him?" "Varick Holt killed him when he tried to leave," she said, her voice steady but heavy.
"Made it look like an accident, but I knew the truth." Her arms tightened around me. "That's why I was watching his camp," she continued. "I was looking for proof of what really happened." And just like that, everything fell into place.
This wasn't just about her seeing something she shouldn't have. This was personal. Varick Holt had torn her family apart, and Sihaya had been gathering proof ever since, waiting for the right moment to bring him down. "We're going to stop him," I said, surprising even myself with how steady my voice sounded. "You really think I'm going to let you face him alone after what he did?"
I felt her arms tighten around me, and when she spoke, there was something raw in her voice. "You barely know me, Dax. Why would you risk your life for my fight?" It was a fair question, and the truth was, I didn't have a clean answer. How could I explain that something inside me had shifted the moment I saw her tied to that tree?