"I am Reverend Pike," the man said, as if Daniel should know the name. "I am here on God's business and the territories. "I have no business with you," Daniel said, turning back to his horse. "You have my property, sir," Pike said, his voice sharp. Daniel froze.
He turned slowly. "What did you say?" The Apache girl. Tyen. She is a ward of the mission entrusted to my care by the United States government to be educated and saved.
You abducted her. She was chained to your wagon, half dead and beaten. The bandits left her. I saved her. Daniel snarled.
You stole her. You are harboring a fugitive. And Pike's thin lips curled. You are cohabitating with her in sin. I have papers.
He produced a sheath of documents from his coat. A legal wardship signed by the circuit judge. She is to be returned to my custody immediately. She is not property and she is not going anywhere with you. "Sheriff," Pike called out.
Sheriff Brody emerged from his office across the plaza. He was a weary man, his face lined from the sun in the stress of policing a territory that was mostly lawless. He walked toward them, his spurs jingling in the dust. "Daniel," he said, his voice tired. The reverend has been to see me.
He's got papers. They look legal. Legal? Daniel's voice was incredulous. He's a slaver.
He bought her. He claims he was transporting her from a difficult situation, Brody said clearly uncomfortable. Look, his papers say she's a ward of the church until she's 21. He's claiming you're holding her against her will. "That's a lie."
"Then let her come to town and say it," Pike challenged, his blue eyes gleaming. She's not setting foot in this town, Daniel said, his hand moving toward the pistol on his hip. "Daniel, don't," Brody said his hand on his own weapon. Don't be a fool right now. This is a civil matter.
You draw on him. It's murder. He comes near my land. It's self-defense. Daniel said.
Pike smiled. A cold, thin expression. "You will be served with a writ, Mr. Reed. You are defying the law. You are defying God."