If you want to see her, you can ask politely, but you are not dragging her out here like a stolen horse." The captain's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward in his saddle, his leather gauntlets creaking. "Careful, Ward. I know your record.
You might have scouted for the fifth, but you are civilian now. Do not think that gives you the right to obstruct military business." "I am not obstructing," Elias said. "I am protecting my wife." He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the folded paper.
He walked forward and held it up. "Thorne signed it," Elias said, his eyes drilling into the agent. "Paid in full, $30. And the contract states she is under my protection as a legal spouse. That makes her a citizen by marriage, does it not, Captain?"
Thorne squinted at the paper, looking nervous. "Well, yes. Technicalities," Thorne muttered. "But the colonel wants to make sure these arrangements are being honored. We have had reports of buyers turning them loose or selling them to comancheros."
"She is here," Elias said. "And she stays here." As if summoned by the tension, the cabin door opened. Naya stepped out onto the porch. She had smoothed her hair and put on a clean apron over her faded dress.
She stood tall, gripping the porch railing with white knuckles, but her face was a mask of imperious calm. "I am here," she said. Her voice was steady, though Elias could hear the tremor beneath it. The soldiers turned to look at her. The captain looked her up and down, his expression shifting from boredom to a predatory appraisal.
"So, this is the one," the captain said. "She looks fed, at least," Thorne noted, scribbling something in a notebook. "Is she working?" the captain asked Elias, ignoring Naya. "Is she docile?" "She is my wife," Elias repeated, the words grinding out between his teeth.
"Not a dog." The captain chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Right, your wife. Well, keep a close eye on her. Ward, these people have a way of reverting to their wild nature.
If she runs, we will have to hunt her down. And next time, we might not bring her back alive." Elias felt a red haze creep into the edges of his vision. He wanted to pull the Colt. He wanted to shoot the captain out of his saddle.
The violence of the impulse shocked him. "Get off my land," Elias whispered. The captain stiffened. He looked at Elias, then at the gun on his hip. He smiled, a cold, knowing smile.
"We are leaving, scout. Enjoy your domestic bliss." The patrol turned their horses and rode out, kicking up a fresh cloud of dust that coated Elias's face. He stood there, watching them go, his chest heaving as if he had run a mile. He waited until they were specks on the horizon before he let his hand drop from his gun.