The clearing went still. Cade Varner's hand drifted towards the butt of his revolver. Gus leaned forward in the saddle, almost eager for someone to make the first move. Boone, however, remained calm. His eyes stayed on Cal.
Studying him. Measuring him like a man looking over a fence and deciding where it might be easiest to break through. At last, Boone let out a low laugh. All right. He straightened in the saddle.
Not today. Then his expression hardened. But you're going to regret this, rancher. He pulled gently on the reins and turned his horse. Gus Talbott followed.
Cade Varner did the same, though his eyes stayed fixed on the cabin until the last possible moment. They rode back toward the pines like vultures circling off only because the carcass had not fallen yet. Cal kept the rifle raised until the sound of hoofbeats finally disappeared into the trees. Only then did he let out the breath he had been holding. He turned toward Tala.
She was still standing in the doorway. Still watching him. They know. She whispered. Cal looked back toward the ridge.
Yes. Cal's voice came out rough. He rested the rifle against the wall, his jaw still set hard. But they haven't won yet. The fire continued to snap inside the cabin, though the room somehow felt colder than before.
Cal understood one thing with absolute certainty. This was only the beginning. The night after Boone Kersey's visit passed without real rest. Cal stayed in the chair beside the door, boots still on, his rifle close enough to grab without standing. Tala lay on the bed with her eyes open in the darkness, whispering softly in her Apache tongue.
Cal could not understand the words. The fire burned low, and neither of them slept for long. By first light, Cal had made up his mind. If those men came back, it could not be enough for only one person in that cabin to know how to fight. He stepped outside with the rifle slung across his shoulder.
Tala followed him. She still wore Cal's old shirt, the sleeves rolled above her elbows, with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders almost like armor. Frost cracked beneath their boots as they crossed towards the corral. Cal took the rifle from his shoulder and held it out to her. If they come back, you need to know how to use this.
Tala's hands trembled when she accepted it. The weathered wood felt heavier than it looked. She studied the rifle for a moment, drew in a deep breath, then gave him a determined nod. Cal positioned her feet in the dirt and adjusted her stance. Then he carefully guided the stock against her shoulder.
Her body tightened at his touch, but she did not step away. Hold it tight. Tight. She repeated carefully. Cal pointed toward an old tree stump across the clearing.