The next two days passed with an uneasy quiet. Cole stayed close to the cabin, working the fence, and keeping the rifle within reach. Nia worked beside him, hanging wash, cooking, even patching the garden beds, but the way her eyes cut toward the tree line told him she hadn't forgotten the night Clay came. It was near sundown on the third day when the sound of hooves broke the calm. Cole was stacking with near the shed and froze, listening.
Not one horse, three. They were coming fast. The sound carrying sharp through the evening air. Nia, he called his voice low but urgent. She was on the porch already gripping the rifle heed left near the door.
Cole took it from her and checked the chamber before handing it back. Stay inside, he said. I stay by the door, she said, her jaw set. Cole didn't argue. He stepped off the porch and stood near the corral, rifle loose in his hands but ready.
The riders came into view. Clay and two others, dust rising behind them. They slowed as they neared the cabin, stopping just far enough that Cole had to raise his voice to be heard. "You're trespassing," Cole called. Clay grinned from the saddle.
"Easy, Merrick. We just came to talk." "Talk from the road," Cole said. Klay swung the leg over and dropped to the ground, taking a few steps closer. "You got no right keeping her up here like she's yours," he said. Cole felt his jaw tighten.
She's not yours either. The second rider spat in the dirt. She don't belong here. You know it. She stays where she wants, Cole said.
Clay's grin widened. Does she? Or is she too scared to run? Cole heard the floorboard creek behind him. Nia had stepped just inside the door.
Her voice came steady, louder than he'd ever heard it. "I stay here," she said. Clay's grin faltered for a second. "Girl, you don't know what you're saying." "I know." Nia cut him off. You take my clothes.