After a moment, he added that there had also been reports of an Apache woman moving through those mountains. According to him, she had escaped from a lawful capture. There was a federal order attached to her name, he claimed, and a substantial reward for anyone who turned her in. Ran kept his face unreadable. "I haven't seen any woman like that." The bearded man finally gave his name, Thaad Quillin.
He said that under the circumstances, he would still like to have a look inside the cabin. "No," Ran said. The word landed between them like a stone. For several seconds, nobody moved. Thaad glanced toward the two men riding with him, Oric Fenroe and Toiver Dre.
Then his eyes dropped to Ran's rifle. He looked toward the treeline. Finally, he turned his attention to the cabin door. That was when the arrow came. It flew out of the shadowed doorway and struck the bridle of Thaad's horse so close to the cheekpiece that it sliced away a narrow strip of leather.
The horse threw its head violently. Thaad grabbed for control and spent the next few seconds fighting to stay in the saddle. By the time the animal settled, he found himself facing two things. The unmoving barrel of Ran's rifle and Aina. She stood in the doorway behind him with a second arrow already set to the string.
She was putting as little weight as possible on the injured ankle. Still, she stood straight enough. The short bow rested firmly in her hands. Her eyes were fixed on the three men with a hard, steady calm. She looked like someone who had already made every important decision before anyone else had begun talking.
Thaad stared at her. Then at the arrow buried in his bridle, then back at Ran. He muttered something. Ran did not care enough to listen closely. Thaad pulled his horse around.
Oric Fenroe and Toiver Dre followed him. The three men disappeared back into the pines by the same route they had used to come in. Ran watched until the last horse vanished among the trees. Then he turned. Aina had lowered the bow.
She was leaning against the door frame now, taking pressure off the ankle she had forced herself to stand on for nearly 10 minutes without showing a single sign of pain. Her jaw was tight. Her eyes remained locked on the forest. "That was a good shot," Ran said. Aina looked at him.
Then in slow and careful Spanish, she replied, "I know." She went back inside. Once seated, she lifted the injured foot onto the other chair. Ran stayed in the yard for another moment, staring toward the trail where three men had just decided that one isolated cabin was more trouble than it was worth. He did not believe they would come back. Men like Thaad Quillin made calculations before they acted.