Look at that one jered. She thinks she's a fighter. Clint felt the weight of her presence at his back, fear curling cold in his gut. He kept the rifle aimed, voice hard. Last warning.
The lead man smirked, lifted his pistol higher. She's coming with us. The crack of Clint's rifle split the air. The shot tore through the man's shoulder, sending him crashing from a saddle. His horse reared, screaming.
The other two cursed, one firing wild. Clint dropped low, chambered another round, and fired again. The second man's hat flew, his horse spinning. The third turned his animal hard, spurring it away. Within moments, the valley rang with the sound of retreating hooves.
Clint stood in the doorway, chest heaving, rifles still hot in his hands. The man he had shot groaned in the mud, clutching his shoulder. He looked once at Clint, rage burning in his eyes, then staggered onto his horse and followed the others. The silence after was heavy. Clint lowered the rifle slow, breath steadying.
He turned to Ayoka. She still gripped the knife, knuckles white, but her chin was high, her body trembling only slightly. She met his eyes. "You see," she said, voice shaking, but strong. "No hide." Clint stared at her a long moment, then nodded.
No hide. They went back inside, the cabin closed with the smell of gunpowder and fear. Clint set the rifle on the table, rubbed a hand down his face. Trouble would come again. That much was certain.
Men like that didn't forget. But as Ayoka set the knife down, her hand brushing his for just a second, he knew something else, too. Whatever came, she wasn't going to leave, and he wasn't going to let her go. That night, as the fire burned low, they sat side by side. She leaned into him, her head against his shoulder, and for once Clint let the tension drain from his body.
The danger wasn't gone, but the choice had already been made. They would face it together. The air inside the cabin was still thick with the smell of gunpowder and damp earth. Clint sat at the table with his rifle laid across it, the barrel cooling, his jaw clenched tight. He could still hear the retreating hoof beatats echoing in his head, still see the flash of hatred in the wounded man's eyes before he staggered onto his horse and rode away.