The rifle fired.
Josiah dragged Ayanna from the saddle a fraction of a second before the bullet passed through the space where her shoulder had been.
They hit the snow.
Gideon bolted.
Black Crow and the other warriors scattered toward cover.
“Stay down!” Josiah shouted.
Ayanna glared at him.
“My family is down there.”
“I know.”
“Then move.”
Before Josiah could answer, she was already crawling toward a stand of rocks overlooking the camp.
He followed.
Below them, Voss’s men had begun retreating.
That surprised Josiah.
They had not come to kill everyone.
They had come to cause enough damage to create fear.
One lodge burned.
Two horses were down.
A man lay wounded beside a tree.
Women pulled children toward the creek.
Voss’s riders fired into the air as they withdrew.
“Cowards,” Josiah muttered.
Black Crow appeared beside them.
He pointed toward a narrow trail.
Three of Voss’s men were trying to cut off a group fleeing from the camp.
Among them was an elderly woman.
Ayanna gasped.
“My grandmother.”
She ran.
“Ayanna!”
Josiah chased her.
Black Crow came from the other side.
The first gunman spotted them.
He swung his rifle.
Black Crow fired an arrow.
It struck the man’s shoulder and knocked him backward.
The second rider aimed at Ayanna.
Josiah shot.
The man’s rifle flew from his hand as the bullet struck the stock.
His horse reared.
The third gunman turned and fled.
Ayanna reached the old woman.
“Grandmother.”
The elderly woman cupped Ayanna’s face with both hands.
She spoke rapidly.
Ayanna answered.
Josiah kept watch.
Voss’s remaining riders were disappearing into the storm.
Black Crow wanted to pursue.
The older warrior stopped him.
They argued.
Ayanna’s grandmother joined them.
Her voice carried authority despite her age.
Black Crow went silent.
Josiah noticed the way others listened to her.
She was small, perhaps sixty-five or seventy, wrapped in heavy hides.
Her silver-streaked hair had been braided carefully.
Her eyes were sharp.
Ayanna brought her over.
“Josiah Mercer, this is my grandmother, Tala.”
Josiah removed his hat.
“Ma’am.”
Tala studied him.
Then looked at the bruise on his face.
She said something.
Ayanna smiled.
“What?”
“She says Black Crow hit you many times.”
Josiah glanced at Black Crow.
“Tell her I noticed.”
Ayanna translated.
Tala laughed.
Even Black Crow’s expression nearly softened.
Then Tala’s attention moved to the burning lodge.
Her humor vanished.
The camp worked quickly to extinguish the fire.
Josiah helped carry water.
Black Crow helped lift the wounded man.
The irony was not lost on Josiah.
Twenty-four hours earlier they had been fighting over Ayanna.
Now they were standing shoulder to shoulder against armed raiders.
When the immediate danger passed, people gathered beneath a large canvas shelter.
Josiah showed them the letters.
Ayanna translated.
Voices rose.
Fear.
Anger.
Disbelief.
One older man argued that settlers had always wanted their land and the papers changed nothing.
Another said they should move before more attacks came.
Black Crow spoke fiercely.
Ayanna’s jaw tightened.
“What’s he saying?” Josiah asked.
“He wants to strike Granite Ridge’s camp tonight.”
“That’s exactly what Voss wants.”
“I know.”
“Tell him.”
“I did.”
Black Crow continued.
Josiah stepped forward.
“Tell him again.”
Ayanna looked wary.
“He will not enjoy your advice.”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
She translated.
Black Crow approached Josiah.
His face was inches away.
He spoke.
“He says men who hide should not lecture warriors about courage.”
Josiah felt anger rise.
He could have answered with his fists.
A week earlier perhaps he would have.
Instead, he looked around at the frightened families.
“Tell him I spent four years watching men call revenge courage.”
Ayanna translated.
Black Crow’s eyes narrowed.
Josiah continued.
“Tell him I watched thousands die because everybody believed one more charge would settle things.”
Ayanna translated.
The shelter quieted.
“Tell him Voss is counting on anger. If Black Crow attacks tonight, Voss will put dead settlers on every newspaper from Denver to Washington and call them proof.”
Ayanna spoke.
Black Crow did not interrupt this time.
“Then soldiers come. Ranchers organize. Your people are pushed out. Voss buys the valley for pennies.”
Silence.
Tala spoke.
Ayanna translated.
“She asks what you suggest.”
“We prove what Voss is doing.”
“How?”
Josiah unfolded the letters.
“These aren’t enough. Voss will say they’re fake.”
Tala nodded.
“We need witnesses. Records. Men who work for him.”
Ayanna looked at Josiah.
“And you know Voss.”
“I knew him.”
“Will he remember you?”
Josiah looked toward the ridge where Voss had vanished.
“He already did.”
That evening Tala insisted Josiah stay.
The storm had worsened.
Travel after dark would be dangerous.
Josiah sat near a fire while families repaired what had been damaged.
Ayanna brought him food.
“Rabbit.”
“Smells good.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I live on beans half the time.”
“That explains your personality.”
Josiah stared at her.
She smiled.
For a moment, the war with Voss disappeared.
They were simply two people beside a fire.
Then Ayanna sat across from him.
“You never finished telling me about Chickamauga.”
“I finished years ago.”
“No. You stopped living after it.”
Josiah looked away.
“You sound like my mother.”
“I never met her.”
“She’d have liked you.”
Ayanna’s expression softened.
Josiah regretted saying it because the words felt too close to tenderness.
He focused on the fire.
“My brother was there.”
Ayanna waited.
“Thomas.”
“Younger?”
“Two years.”
“What happened?”
Josiah’s throat tightened.
“We got separated during the fighting.”
He rubbed his hands.
“I found him the next morning.”
He did not need to describe the rest.
Ayanna understood.
“I carried him three miles.”
She said nothing.
“I thought if I could get him to a surgeon, maybe…”
Josiah stared into the flames.
“He died before we reached the field hospital.”
“I am sorry.”
“After that I stopped believing men when they talked about glory.”
“Did you blame yourself?”
“For surviving?”
“Yes.”
Josiah looked at her.
“How’d you know?”
“My mother died giving birth to my youngest sister.”
Ayanna’s voice remained steady, but her fingers tightened around the bowl in her lap.
“For years my sister believed she had killed her.”
“That wasn’t true.”
“No.”
Ayanna held his gaze.
“Neither is what you believe about Thomas.”
Josiah’s chest tightened.
He wanted to argue.
Instead he whispered, “Maybe.”
Across the camp Black Crow watched them.
His expression was unreadable.
Later Tala approached Josiah alone.
She spoke slowly in English.
“You cut rope.”
Josiah nodded.
“Yes.”
“She told me.”
“I figured.”
Tala looked toward Ayanna.
“She sees wounded things.”
Josiah frowned.
“Meaning me?”
Tala smiled.
“She sees what wounded things can become.”
“I’m not sure I like where this is going.”
“She wants child.”
Josiah nearly choked.
“Apparently everybody knows about that.”
Tala laughed.
“She does not ask permission easily.”
“No, I noticed.”
Tala became serious.
“Black Crow wants possession. Ayanna wants choice.”
Josiah nodded.
“I won’t take that from her.”
“Good.”
Tala touched his arm.
“But choice means she may choose you.”
Josiah had no answer.
At dawn the next morning, a young rider arrived from the western ranches.
He carried terrible news.
Nathaniel Ward’s ranch had burned.
Ward was alive, but his foreman had been killed.
Painted symbols had been left on the barn.
Symbols intended to imitate Apache markings.
Voss was accelerating.
By noon ranchers would hear.
By evening rumors would become facts.
Josiah rode for town immediately.
Ayanna insisted on accompanying him.
Black Crow came too.
“No,” Josiah said.
Black Crow looked unimpressed.
“His presence will frighten people,” Ayanna admitted.
Black Crow responded.
“What’d he say?”
“He says frightened men reveal themselves quickly.”
Josiah sighed.
“I’m starting to hate agreeing with him.”
They entered Silver Creek town near sunset.
Exactly as Josiah feared, armed men had gathered outside the general store.
Sheriff Caleb Dunn stood on the boardwalk.
Nathaniel Ward sat nearby with one arm bandaged.
When the townspeople saw Black Crow, rifles lifted.
Josiah rode ahead.
“Put them down!”
“Get aside, Mercer!” someone shouted.
“Those people burned Ward’s place!”
“No, they didn’t.”
“You got proof?”
Josiah held up the letters.
“I do.”
Sheriff Dunn descended the steps.
“Let’s see it.”
Josiah hesitated.
Ayanna noticed.
So did the sheriff.
“You trust me or not?” Dunn asked.
“Today would be a good day to earn it.”
Murmurs spread.
Dunn’s face tightened.
Josiah handed him one letter but kept the others.
The sheriff read.
His expression changed.
“Where’d you get this?”
“Granite Ridge shack.”
Ward struggled to his feet.
“Voss?”
Josiah nodded.
Nathaniel Ward went pale.
“I sold him timber rights last year.”
“What?”
“Not land. Just timber along the western edge.”
Josiah cursed.
Ward continued.
“He knows every road on my property.”
Black Crow spoke.
Ayanna translated.
“He says Voss’s men offered him rifles to attack ranches.”
The ranchers reacted angrily.
One shouted that she was lying.
Another raised his weapon.
Sheriff Dunn stepped between them.
“Enough!”
Then a voice came from behind the crowd.
“She isn’t lying.”
Everyone turned.
A young white man staggered from an alley.
Blood soaked one sleeve.
Josiah recognized him as one of the gunmen from the mining shack.
The man collapsed.
Ayanna rushed to him.
“Easy.”
He grabbed Josiah’s shirt.
“Voss…”
“What about him?”
The man coughed.
“He knows you found the letters.”
“I guessed.”
“No.”
The wounded man shook his head.
“You don’t understand.”
His eyes filled with fear.
“He’s coming here.”
Sheriff Dunn looked toward the road.
“When?”
The man tried to answer.
Then the church bell began ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
A rider galloped into town shouting.
“Men coming from the south!”
Josiah climbed onto the boardwalk.
Beyond the roofs, dust rose along the road.
At least twenty riders.
At their head rode Edmund Voss.
He was not hiding anymore.
And nailed to a pole beside the road was a freshly painted sign:
GRANITE RIDGE PROPERTY — TRESPASSERS WILL BE REMOVED.
Voss had decided he no longer needed deception.
He was coming to take the valley openly.
---