Yuma translated the parts that needed translating. Natan sat beside his uncle and said nothing, but his hands were still in a way that Boon had come to understand meant he was thinking hard and not liking what he was thinking. "What happens next time they come down from the ridge?" Boon asked. Grey Elk was quiet for a moment.
"We hold our ground," he said. But there are not enough of us if they bring enough men. He paused, and for the first time since Boon had been in the valley, something showed on the older man's face that was not composure. It was something quieter and harder. The expression of a person who has run the numbers on a problem and doesn't like the answer.
Rearen has the law on his side. Yuma said quietly. Or the version of the law that this territory recognizes. Boon sat with that for a while. The fire was low between them, and the night was coming on cold, and August was somewhere out in the dark, being appreciated by a 7-year-old who probably should have been asleep an hour ago.
He thought about the three riders on the ridge. He thought about $3 and a broken contract and a road that went nowhere in particular. And then he said, ""I know a lawyer in Prescott who doesn't work for Rearen."" The silence that followed was different from the other silences. Yuma looked at her husband. Grey Elk looked at Boon with those direct unhurried eyes.
"Why?" He said again. "The same word as the first time, the same weight." Boon said, ""Same reason as before."" He looked at the older man. "Because it isn't right."