"We're just fixing it." He raised the sledgehammer. He aimed it at the old stone marker her husband had laid with his own hands. Cora aimed the rifle slightly above the man's head. She squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot shattered the quiet night. Fire flashed from the barrel. The sound echoed off the ridge, rolling like thunder across the valley. The bullet struck the thick branch of a pine tree just above the man. Snow showered down over their hats.
The man dropped the sledgehammer. The other man drew a revolver. "Are you crazy?" the man with the gun yelled. "The next one goes lower," Cora said clearly. Her hands were shaking, but the barrel of the rifle did not waver.
The man raised his revolver. He aimed it at the porch. Cora braced herself. Before the man could fire, the sound of heavy hoofbeats tore through the trees. From the shadows of the pine ridge, four riders erupted into the moonlight.
They moved fast. They did not carry lanterns. They carried ropes and rifles. At the front of the pack was Josiah Langden. He rode a massive black gelding.
He did not slow down. He drove his horse straight between the two men and the creek, cutting them off from the boundary marker. His ranch foreman, a broad-shouldered man named Amos, rode up behind the man. Amos uncoiled a lariat and tossed it with a lazy flick of his wrist. The rope dropped neatly over the man with the revolver.
Amos jerked the rope hard. The man flew backward into the snow, dropping his gun. Josiah reined his horse to a halt. The giant animal snorted, blowing white steam into the freezing air. Josiah looked down at the man who had dropped the sledgehammer.
"Pick up your hammer," Josiah said softly. The man stared at him, terrified. He knew who Josiah Langden was. "I said, pick it up." The man fumbled in the snow.
He grabbed the handle of the sledgehammer. "Now," Josiah said, pointing toward the road, "walk back to town. If you stop walking before you reach the bank, Amos will drag you the rest of the way." The man looked at Amos. Amos smiled.
It was not a friendly smile. The two men scrambled away, leaving their lanterns behind in the snow. Josiah turned his horse. He rode at a slow walk up to the farmhouse. Cora stood on the porch.
The rifle was still in her hands. The barrel was smoking slightly. Josiah looked at the rifle. Then he looked at Cora. "I told you to lock your doors, Mrs. Thornton," Josiah said mildly.
"I did," Cora replied. "But they were outside." A small smile tugged at the corner of Josiah's mouth. He tipped his hat. "Colonel Silas would have been proud of that shot."
Cora lowered the rifle. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her feeling tired and cold. "Did you know they were coming?" she asked. "I suspected Arthur Gable was a coward," Josiah said, dismounting. "Cowards always do their dirty work in the dark."