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.
Before today, they may have expected one lonely rancher. Now they knew there was a rifle waiting at the cabin and an Apache woman inside who could put an arrow exactly where she intended. The arithmetic had changed. Still, Ran was not willing to gamble her life on a guess. He stepped inside and sat across from her.
Aina watched him silently, waiting for whatever he intended to say. Ran leaned forward. "How long before you can walk 2 days north?" Aina considered the question seriously. "7 days," she said. Then after a pause, maybe eight.
Ran gave a slow nod. "Then you'll stay until you're ready." Aina studied him. Something moved across her face. Something he could not quite name. Then she answered with a short phrase in Apache.