His shoulders dropped slightly like something inside gave way. "You rode with them," she said. Not a question. He looked down, then back up. "Yeah. " The word barely left his mouth.
The fire cracked behind them. Slow. Measured. You're one of them," she said. He shook his head.
"Not anymore. Men don't just walk away from that. " I did. "How? " A long breath left him. Slow. Heavy.
Because they wanted me to do something. I wouldn't. Clara didn't move. Didn't blink. "What? " His jaw tightened.
Eyes drifted past her like he was seeing it again. "There was a boy," he said. small, didn't even cry. Silence filled the room. They told me to handle it. His hands curled slightly.
"I didn't. " The fire popped, sharp. "They put a bullet in me for it. " Clara stood still, every part of her rigid. "You expect me to believe that? " she asked. "I don't expect anything. " Their eyes locked, long, unmoving. Then sheriff would hang you for less, she said.
"Then let him. " That answer came too easy. Too fast. Clara's chest rose slow. Something inside her shifted. Not softer.
Not yet, but not as hard either. She turned away. Looked at the door. Then back at him. "You stay," she said, until you can walk.
And then her hand tightened at her side. Then you go another silence, different this time. Quieter, but deeper. Outside, the rain slowed even more. Inside, nothing felt settled.
Not yet. And somewhere far off. Hooves were already on the move. The rain stopped the morning the riders came. No warning, no thunder, just silence.
Clara stood on the porch, a needle in her hand, mending a torn sleeve. The land still looked bruised from the storm. Mud thick, fences broken, everything holding together by will alone. Inside the barn, Eli worked slow, careful, but stronger now. She could hear the steady rhythm of wood against metal, fixing, building, like a man trying to pay off something he couldn't name.
Then she saw them. Three riders far out at first, just shapes moving across the horizon. But the way they rode, relaxed, certain, not searching, hunting. The needle slipped from her fingers. Her chest tightened.
She didn't call out, didn't think. She ran. Boots hit mud hard as she crossed the yard and burst into the barn. "They're here," she said. No breath left in her voice.
Eli looked up. Didn't ask who. Didn't need to. His body changed. Stillness turning sharp.
"How many? " "Three. " He nodded once. Fast, controlled. "Get to the house," he said. She didn't move. Now something in his voice made her turn.
She ran back, grabbed the rifle, hands shaking, set it by the door. Outside, hooves were closer now. The riders pulled into the yard like they already owned it. Dust mixed with wet ground under their horses. One of them swung down.
Big man. Thick beard. Eyes that didn't blink enough. "Afternoon," he said, voice low. Easy.
Too easy. Clara stood on the porch, back straight, hands still. "I'm looking for someone," he added. You seen a man pass through here? Clara swallowed once.
"No. " The word came clean. The man smiled. Not kind. Not friendly. Just teeth.
"That so? " He stepped closer. Boots slow against the wood. "He's hurt," the man said. Shot. Won't have gone far.