He caught himself on the fence post, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Clara dismounted and went to him. She saw the fatigue etched into his face, the gray circles under his eyes. He looked brittle, as if one strong wind would snap him in two. They want to wear us down, Eli rasped, touching the severed wire.
They know they cannot win in court yet, so they will kill us by inches. No sleep, no safety. We fixed it, Clara said, handing him his canteen. We brought them back. This time, Eli said.
He took a long drink, water spilling down his chin. Next time they might run them off a cliff. They were mending the wire as the sun crested the horizon, painting the sky in violent shades of orange and red. The sound of hooves approaching made them both freeze. Three riders appeared on the rise.
At the front was Silas Vance, Harlan Pike's foreman. He was a man built like a barrel with a face that looked like it had been carved out of granite and left to weather. Eli stood up slowly. He picked up his rifle, not aiming it, but holding it across his chest. Clara moved to stand slightly behind him, her hand resting near the pistol tucked in her belt.
Morning Kincaid, Vance called out. He did not smile. Looks like you had some trouble. Trespassers, Eli said calmly. Cut my fence.
Is that so? Vance rode closer, stopping his horse just on the other side of the wire. Shame. Maybe your cows just know where the better water is. The creek on Mister Pike's Land is flowing real nice.
The creek is common water, Eli said. And the boundary is 5 mi south. You know that, Vance. I know what the map says today, Vance said, leaning on his saddle horn. Maps change.
Owners change, mister. Pike is a patient man, but he hates to see good land wasted on a man who cannot hold it. Vance's eyes flicked to Clara. He looked her up and down with a slow, insolent stare. And he surely hates to see a lady working so hard.
Maybe she would be happier in town. I hear she has friends there. Eli's knuckles turned white on the rifle stock. The muscles in his jaw jumped. Clara saw the shift in him, the Kincaid blood rising.
The urge to end the insult with a bullet. The air between the men grew thin and tight. "Get off my land," Eli said. His voice was not loud, but it vibrated with a deadly frequency. Vance chuckled.
I am on the public road neighbor just passing through. He turned his horse. Fix that fence good Kincaid. Be a shame if it happened again tonight. As they rode away, Eli lowered the rifle.