"Can you say the same?" That hit something. Wyatt saw it in the way Harlo's jaw tightened, the way his shoulders went rigid. Men like him didn't like being challenged on their morality, didn't like being reminded that what they were doing was wrong. It made them angry, made them sloppy.
"Fine," Harlo said, his voice gone cold. "Have it your way." He turned and walked back to his horse. For a moment, Wyatt thought they were actually leaving. Then Harlo swung into the saddle and looked back, his eyes hard as flint.
"We'll be back tonight," he said. "And next time, we won't ask." The riders turned and rode off, their horses kicking up snow in their wake. Wyatt stood on the porch until they disappeared over the ridge, then lowered his rifle and let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Ayla appeared in the doorway, the Winchester still clutched in her hands.
Her face was white, her eyes wide. "They're really coming back." "Yeah. Tonight. That's what he said."
She set the rifle down with shaking hands and leaned against the door frame. "We can't fight six men, Wyatt. We'll die." "Maybe, but we'll take a few of them with us." "That's not funny."
"Wasn't trying to be." He turned to face her. "Look, I'm not going to lie to you. This is bad. Real bad."
But running's not an option. You go out there alone, they'll catch you before you make it 5 miles. Our best chance is to hold them off here. "Hold them off?" she repeated, her voice hollow. "For how long?"
"Long enough." "Long enough for what?" Wyatt didn't have an answer to that. Long enough for them to give up? Not likely.
Long enough for help to arrive. There was no help. The nearest town was two days' ride, and even if he could get word to the marshal, the law didn't move fast enough to matter. They were on their own. "Long enough to make them regret coming here," he said finally.
Ayla looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "All right. What do we do?" They spent the afternoon turning the cabin into a fortress. Wyatt nailed boards across the windows, leaving narrow gaps to shoot through.
He dragged sacks of grain and barrels of flour against the walls for extra cover. Ayla filled every container they had with water, knowing that if the siege lasted more than a day, they'd need it. They moved all the ammunition into the cabin and loaded every gun they had. Two rifles, three pistols, and an old shotgun that Wyatt kept for close work. While they worked, they talked strategy.
"They'll come after dark," Wyatt said, hammering another board into place. "Probably split up. Some will try the front, some will try the back or the sides. They'll want to keep us divided. Make us guess where the real attack's coming from.