In that moment, I stopped seeing her as a woman I had rescued from the tracks. I began seeing her as the person fighting beside me. A gunshot cracked from outside. The bullet tore through a window and buried itself in the log wall behind my shoulder. My Winchester answered.
One of the riders threw himself from his saddle and crawled desperately toward cover, but the exchange at the window was only meant to distract us. Behind the cabin, and I heard old timber splinter, the back door. I had taken only a few steps when the rear door burst inward. Bart Klene and Rafe Moss charged through the opening with revolvers drawn. Bart never finished raising his weapon.
My Winchester roared once. The shot hurled him backward before he could cross the threshold. Rafe managed to fire. I felt the bullet hiss past my ear before it shattered one of the dining room boards. I pivoted on my heel.
The Winchester fired again. Rafe Moss fell heavily across the porch and did not move. I worked the lever and chambered another round. My breathing remained slow, measured, but smoke was already spreading through the entire cabin. Nia's voice came down from the loft. The fires moving toward the north side.
I looked up. Glowing embers were slipping through gaps in the roof. Another burning arrow sailed through an open window and rolled across the wooden floor. I kicked it aside before the dry planks could catch. Get down here.
Nia dropped from the ladder. Ash covered her long hair. Soot darkened her face, and a small burn marked one arm. She did not even seem to notice. She ran straight to another window, braced the rifle against her shoulder, and drew one steady breath.
Then she fired. A rider toppled from his horse several yards away. Nia worked the rifle's lever with startling speed. I had never seen anyone become so comfortable with an unfamiliar weapon in so little time. "Your father taught you well without taking her eyes from the men outside," she answered.
"My father said survival begins long before the first shot is fired." I nodded. Taza had been right. A real battle was won by thinking before the enemy did. For for several seconds, the gunfire stopped.
Only the crackle of the flames remained along with the wind driving smoke through every corner of the cabin. Then another voice came from outside. This time it belonged to Silus Crowe. Calm, patient. You might hold out for a few more minutes, Wade Coulter.
But wood always burns eventually. I looked around the room. The log walls were still holding. We still had enough ammunition. But Silas was right about one thing.
We could not remain inside that cabin forever. Nia fed fresh cartridges into her rifle. They'll come again. Yes. And next time they'll all try to break in at once.