Morning revealed boot tracks behind Josiah’s barn.
Not moccasins.
Boots.
Heavy heels.
Square toes.
One pair at least.
Possibly two.
Josiah crouched beside the prints while Ayanna stood nearby wrapped in his spare coat.
Snow had fallen lightly before dawn, softening the tracks but not hiding them completely.
“He came from there.”
Josiah pointed toward the north tree line.
“Watched the cabin.”
Then he followed the prints toward the burned wall.
“Set the fire here.”
Ayanna held the red cloth.
“And left this.”
“Which means he wanted us to find it.”
“Yes.”
Josiah stood.
“That worries me more than if he’d tried to hide.”
He saddled Gideon.
Ayanna stepped toward him.
“I am coming.”
“No.”
“You do not know these mountains as well as you think.”
“I’ve lived here six years.”
“My grandmother lived here before you were born.”
Josiah tightened the saddle strap.
“I’m tracking somebody who may have a rifle.”
“And you think that makes me safer alone in the cabin?”
He stopped.
She had a point.
He disliked that.
“You know how to shoot?”
Ayanna gave him a look.
“I know how to survive.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She picked up his spare Winchester, worked the lever, inspected the chamber, and handed it back.
Josiah nodded.
“Fair enough.”
They rode north.
The tracks crossed a creek and climbed through dense pine.
At first Josiah thought the stranger had been careless.
Then the trail vanished.
“He doubled back,” Ayanna said.
Josiah glanced at her.
“You saw that?”
She pointed.
“A broken crust of snow beneath that branch. He stepped backward in his own tracks, then left the trail.”
Josiah followed her direction.
She was right.
“You’ve done this before.”
Ayanna’s expression remained neutral.
“Did you believe I spent six moons watching you by sitting behind one tree?”
“Was hoping.”
“Why?”
“Would make me feel less incompetent.”
She almost smiled.
They followed the hidden trail for three miles.
It eventually led to an abandoned mining shack above Silver Creek.
Josiah dismounted.
No smoke.
No horses.
But the snow outside the shack had been disturbed.
He motioned Ayanna behind a boulder.
“I’ll go.”
She ignored him and came anyway.
The door stood partly open.
Josiah pushed it with his rifle barrel.
Empty.
Inside they found blankets.
Coffee grounds.
Three empty whiskey bottles.
A crate of ammunition.
And a map.
Josiah spread it across a table.
His stomach tightened.
Silver Creek Valley had been marked in pencil.
So had Widow’s Canyon.
The stage road.
His cabin.
A spring used by Ayanna’s people during winter travel.
Three locations had circles around them.
Josiah’s property was one.
A second belonged to an aging rancher named Nathaniel Ward.
The third was land used seasonally by Ayanna’s community.
“What is this?” she whispered.
“Something I don’t like.”
Beneath the map lay several pages.
Josiah read the first.
It was a land prospectus.
A mining company from Denver.
Granite Ridge Consolidated.
Proposed claims.
Expected silver deposits.
Rail access.
The eastern section of Silver Creek Valley had been highlighted.
Josiah’s land.
Ward’s ranch.
And the winter corridor Ayanna’s people depended upon.
“They want the valley,” Josiah said.
“Who?”
He turned another page.
A familiar name appeared.
Edmund Voss.
Josiah felt the room narrow.
Ayanna noticed.
“You know him.”
Josiah did not answer.
“Josiah.”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
Josiah lowered the paper.
“A man I hoped was dead.”
Edmund Voss had been a captain during the war.
Not in Josiah’s regiment.
Not even technically under the same command for most of it.
But during the chaos after Chickamauga, Voss had gathered scattered soldiers and civilians near a rail depot.
He had been handsome then.
Educated.
Charismatic.
And cruel in ways uniforms often helped men hide.
Voss stole from farms.
Threatened families.
Shot a deserter without a trial.
When Josiah objected, Voss called it discipline.
When Josiah interfered a second time, Voss had him tied to a wagon overnight.
The war ended.
Voss vanished.
Josiah never expected to see the name again.
“He was a soldier?” Ayanna asked.
“Among other things.”
“What does he want now?”
“Money.”
“Men like him always want more than money.”
Josiah looked at her.
“Yes.”
They searched the shack.
Behind a loose board, Ayanna discovered letters.
One mentioned buying local officials.
Another described forcing “uncooperative settlers” from disputed property.
A third was worse.
It referred to tensions between settlers and “the Apache band” as an opportunity.
Josiah read the sentence twice.
Then handed it to Ayanna.
Her face became still.
“They plan to make us fight.”
“Looks that way.”
The letter suggested attacks could be blamed on Native riders, provoking settlers to demand military intervention and removal.
At the same time, violence against Ayanna’s people could be blamed on ranchers.
Chaos would lower land values.
Granite Ridge Consolidated would purchase claims through intermediaries.
Josiah felt sick.
“The barn.”
Ayanna nodded.
“They wanted you to blame Black Crow.”
“And the arrow was meant to make you think settlers did it.”
“Yes.”
Josiah folded the letters.
“We take these to the sheriff.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because the letter says officials are being paid.”
“Doesn’t say which officials.”
“Do you know your sheriff?”
“Enough.”
“Enough to trust your life?”
Josiah hesitated.
Ayanna’s expression answered for him.
A floorboard creaked outside.
Josiah spun.
“Down!”
Gunfire exploded through the wall.
Wood splintered above them.
Ayanna dropped behind the table.
Josiah fired through the doorway.
A man shouted.
Another shot shattered the window.
“They followed us!” Ayanna yelled.
“Or never left.”
Josiah crawled toward the rear wall.
“There’s a window.”
“Too small.”
“For me.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll use the door.”
“No.”
“Ayanna—”
“You do not keep proving you are a good man by doing stupid things.”
Another bullet ripped through the shack.
Josiah looked at her.
“Any better ideas?”
“Yes.”
She grabbed an oil lamp.
Before he could stop her, she threw it against the far corner.
Flames raced across dry timber.
Josiah stared.
“You set the building on fire?”
“They want the papers.”
“We’re in the building.”
“Then we should leave.”
Smoke spread instantly.
The gunmen outside shouted.
Ayanna kicked at the rear window.
The frame broke.
She squeezed through.
Josiah fired twice toward the door, then crawled after her.
The opening was narrow.
His shoulders barely fit.
A bullet struck inches from his boot.
He landed in snow beside Ayanna.
They ran downhill.
Two men appeared behind the shack.
Josiah fired.
One dropped behind a log.
The other returned fire.
Ayanna pulled Josiah toward a ravine.
They slid down the snowy slope together.
At the bottom, Josiah landed badly.
His injured knee folded.
Pain nearly blinded him.
“Go,” he hissed.
Ayanna ignored him.
She slung his arm across her shoulders.
“You are very heavy.”
“Glad we’re discussing that now.”
She dragged him behind rocks.
They heard the gunmen approaching.
Josiah checked his rifle.
Two rounds.
Ayanna had four.
“Can you ride?”
“I can crawl if I have to.”
“Good.”
She looked at the steep cliff beside them.
Josiah followed her gaze.
“No.”
“You said you could crawl.”
“I didn’t say I could fly.”
“It is not a cliff.”
“It becomes one farther down.”
“There is a ledge.”
“How do you know?”
“I followed you through these mountains for six moons.”
Josiah stared.
“Of course you did.”
They climbed sideways along the hidden ledge.
Branches concealed them from above.
The gunmen reached the ravine and continued downhill, believing their prey had fled toward the creek.
Ayanna and Josiah doubled back.
They reached their horses an hour later.
By then smoke from the burning shack filled the northern sky.
Josiah looked at it grimly.
“Two fires in two days.”
“The first brought us together.”
“And the second nearly killed us.”
Ayanna mounted.
“Perhaps fire has poor manners.”
Despite everything, Josiah laughed.
They returned to the cabin before noon.
But someone had been there.
The door hung open.
Drawers had been emptied.
Blankets thrown aside.
Josiah’s papers scattered across the floor.
They were searching for something.
“Land deed,” Josiah said.
Ayanna looked at him.
“Did they find it?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
He nodded toward the stone fireplace.
“Behind a loose rock.”
Ayanna gave him a surprised look.
“You distrust people.”
“I’m beginning to feel vindicated.”
He pulled the deed free.
His property covered nearly four thousand acres.
More important was the creek running across it.
Silver Creek was the most reliable water source in the eastern valley.
Without Josiah’s land, Granite Ridge could not easily move ore or supply a mine.
“They need you gone,” Ayanna said.
Josiah nodded.
“And they need your people blamed.”
Silence filled the cabin.
Then Ayanna asked, “What will you do?”
Six years earlier Josiah would have known the answer.
Leave.
There was always another valley.
Another cabin.
Another place to hide.
He looked at the broken furniture.
At the black smoke from his barn.
At Ayanna.
Then he remembered the map.
Ward’s ranch.
Families beyond the valley.
Ayanna’s grandmother.
Her sisters.
People who did not have four thousand acres to abandon.
“I’m staying.”
Ayanna studied him.
“Because of the land?”
“No.”
He surprised himself with the answer.
“Because I’m tired of letting bad men decide where good people are allowed to stand.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then riders approached.
Josiah reached for his rifle.
Ayanna looked through the window.
Her face changed.
“Not Voss.”
“Who?”
“Black Crow.”
Josiah groaned.
“Perfect.”
Black Crow arrived with the older warrior from the fight and two others.
No weapons were drawn.
Ayanna went outside first.
An argument followed.
Josiah remained on the porch.
Finally Ayanna turned.
“He knows about the attacks.”
“How?”
“Two hunting camps were burned last night.”
Josiah’s anger hardened.
“They blamed settlers?”
“Yes.”
Black Crow spoke.
Ayanna translated.
“He found boot tracks.”
Josiah held up the red cloth.
“We found something too.”
Black Crow stared.
Josiah showed them the letters recovered from the mining shack.
Ayanna translated their contents.
The older warrior listened carefully.
Black Crow’s reaction was different.
When Edmund Voss’s name was mentioned, anger flashed across his face.
“He knows Voss?” Josiah asked.
Ayanna spoke with Black Crow.
Then turned back.
“Three weeks ago, men approached him.”
“What did they want?”
“They offered rifles.”
“In exchange for?”
“Attacking ranches west of the creek.”
Josiah’s jaw tightened.
“He refused?”
“Yes.”
That surprised him.
Black Crow stepped closer.
His voice was controlled.
Ayanna translated.
“He says he may hate you, but he will not kill children so another man can become rich.”
Josiah looked directly at him.
“Tell him on that matter we agree.”
Ayanna did.
For the first time, the two men stood on the same side of something.
Neither looked pleased about it.
The older warrior spoke urgently.
Ayanna answered.
Then she looked at Josiah.
“What?”
“My grandmother’s camp.”
Her face drained of color.
“What about it?”
“Black Crow says riders were seen heading toward it before dawn.”
“How many?”
“Eight.”
Josiah did not hesitate.
He strapped on his gun belt.
Ayanna grabbed the Winchester.
Black Crow mounted.
The rivalry between the two men had not disappeared.
Neither had forgotten the frozen circle.
But when Josiah swung onto Gideon, Black Crow rode beside him rather than against him.
“Where’s the camp?” Josiah asked.
Ayanna mounted behind him.
“Northwest. Two hours if the trail is clear.”
“And if it isn’t?”
Ayanna looked toward gathering storm clouds.
“Then we pray we are not too late.”
They rode hard.
Snow began to fall within thirty minutes.
By the time they reached the ridge above the camp, visibility had dropped to fifty yards.
Josiah smelled smoke.
Ayanna stiffened behind him.
They crested the hill.
Below them stood several lodges.
People were running.
Horses scattered.
One shelter burned.
And through the swirling snow rode armed men wearing coats with red cloth tied around their sleeves.
At their head was a tall man on a gray horse.
Even after thirteen years, Josiah recognized him.
Edmund Voss.
Older.
Heavier.
But unmistakable.
Voss turned as if sensing eyes on him.
Across the snowy distance, he saw Josiah.
For one long second, neither man moved.
Then Voss smiled.
And raised his rifle.
---