The morning after the storm, Blake found hoofprints near the north fence.
Three horses.
They had not belonged to him.
He crouched in the mud.
Nia walked up behind him.
“The Carlsons?”
“Probably.”
“You know their tracks?”
“I know trouble when it circles my property.”
Nia looked toward the hills.
“Why do they want this ranch?”
Blake stood.
“That is a very good question.”
Until then, Blake had assumed Jake Carlson simply enjoyed intimidation.
But recent events suggested something more deliberate.
The brothers had appeared twice.
They had asked about Blake in town.
Now they were watching his land.
Blake went inside and retrieved a wooden box from beneath his father's old desk.
Inside were property papers.
Nia watched.
“What?”
“My father bought another section of land sixteen years ago.”
“Where?”
“West ridge.”
Nia frowned.
“The rocky area?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing grows there.”
“Exactly.”
He unfolded an old survey map.
“The railroad has been talking about expanding a route south. If it comes through here, this land suddenly becomes valuable.”
Nia understood.
“The Carlsons know.”
“Maybe.”
“Would you sell?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Blake looked around the ranch.
“My parents are buried here.”
That ended the discussion.
Two days passed peacefully.
Then one of Blake's horses disappeared.
No broken fence.
No accident.
Gone.
Nia studied tracks.
“Stolen.”
Blake nodded.
They followed the trail several miles before it vanished onto rocky ground.
Nia dismounted.
Blake watched her crouch.
“What do you see?”
“A horse passed here.”
“I see rocks.”
“You see badly.”
“Thank you.”
Nia pointed.
“Small chip. Fresh.”
Blake leaned closer.
Sure enough.
She continued tracking.
Hours later, they found the horse tied in a dry canyon.
Alive.
No rider nearby.
Blake untied it.
“This makes no sense.”
“It does if they wanted us away from the ranch.”
Blake froze.
They looked at each other.
Then mounted instantly.
They rode hard.
Smoke appeared before the ranch came into sight.
“Blake!”
The barn.
Flames climbed one wall.
They raced into the yard.
Blake jumped from Thunder.
“Water!”
They worked frantically.
Nia released horses from the corral while Blake and two passing neighbors fought the flames.
Eventually they stopped the fire.
Half the barn wall was destroyed.
Nobody was injured.
Blake stared at the damage.
His face became cold.
Nia approached.
“They wanted to frighten you.”
“They succeeded.”
She looked surprised.
Blake turned toward her.
“Because you were supposed to be here.”
Nia understood.
“If you hadn't come with me—”
“But I did.”
“They could've hurt you.”
“But they didn't.”
His hands curled into fists.
Nia stepped closer.
“Blake.”
He looked at her.
“Do not become foolish because you are angry.”
“I wasn't planning—”
“You were planning something.”
“How do you keep doing that?”
“You make the same face.”
Despite himself, Blake smiled.
Then his eyes became serious again.
“What would you do?”
“Make them believe they are succeeding.”
Blake frowned.
Nia continued.
“People become careless when they think fear has worked.”
“So?”
“So we let them become careless.”
The next morning Blake rode into town and loudly complained at the general store that he was considering selling.
The story spread exactly as Nia predicted.
By afternoon, everyone knew.
Two days later, a stranger arrived.
Tall.
Well-dressed compared with most ranchers.
He introduced himself as Nathan Crowley.
“Representing investors.”
Blake pretended surprise.
“Investors in what?”
“Land.”
Nia watched from the porch.
Crowley offered far below market value.
Blake acted desperate enough to consider it.
“I'll need time.”
“Don't take too much.”
When Crowley left, Nia followed his tracks from a distance.
She returned after dark.
“He met Jake Carlson.”
Blake nodded slowly.
“There it is.”
Now they had a connection.
But proving intimidation and attempted arson remained difficult.
Sheriff Daniels agreed.
“I believe you,” he said when Blake and Nia spoke to him privately. “Believing and proving are different.”
“What would prove it?” Nia asked.
“Witnesses. Documents. Confession.”
Blake snorted.
“Sure. I'll ask Jake to write one.”
The sheriff ignored him.
“Crowley operates legally on paper. Carlson handles what paper can't.”
Nia looked thoughtful.
“Then Carlson believes Crowley will protect him.”
“Likely.”
“People speak freely when they believe nobody important is listening.”
The sheriff studied her.
“What are you suggesting?”
Nia explained.
Three nights later, Blake visited the saloon.
He drank far less than he pretended.
Jake Carlson arrived just as expected.
“So,” Jake said, leaning against the bar, “heard you're selling.”
“Thinking about it.”
“Smart.”
“Storm damage. Horse theft. Fire.”
Jake smiled.
“Territory's dangerous.”
Blake looked at him.
“Funny thing about that fire.”
Jake's smile remained.
“What?”
“It started from inside the barn.”
For half a second, something changed in Jake's eyes.
Then he laughed.
“Bad luck.”
Behind the saloon, Nia waited near an open window with Sheriff Daniels and Deputy Cole.
Jake continued.
Crowley entered shortly afterward.
Neither man realized anyone listened.
Their conversation became careless.
“Mercer's breaking,” Jake said.
Crowley replied, “Good. Once he signs, the western route is ours.”
“What about the woman?”
Blake's body went rigid.
Crowley scoffed.
“A stray doesn't matter.”
Nia's expression did not change.
But Sheriff Daniels saw Blake's hands tighten inside.
Jake laughed.
“She matters to Mercer.”
“Then use that if necessary.”
The sheriff had heard enough.
He entered through the front.
“Evening.”
Crowley froze.
Jake turned.
Blake stepped away from the bar.
Crowley immediately recovered.
“This proves nothing.”
Sheriff Daniels replied, “Maybe not. But the stolen horse we found tied near Carlson land helps.”
Jake's eyes narrowed.
“And Deputy Cole saw you buy kerosene the morning Mercer's barn burned.”
Silence.
Then Jake reached toward his gun.
Nia appeared in the doorway.
Bow already drawn.
Jake stopped.
“Again?” he muttered.
Nia said, “You learn slowly.”
Deputy Cole drew his weapon.
“Hands up.”
Crowley surrendered.
Jake hesitated.
Then did the same.
The Carlson brothers were arrested before midnight.
Crowley faced conspiracy, property fraud, and intimidation charges.
For the first time in weeks, Blake slept without checking the barn window.
But the incident spread through the territory.
So did Nia's role.
People who had stared suspiciously in town now spoke about the woman who had exposed the Carlsons.
Some exaggerated.
Some claimed she had fired six arrows.
Others said twenty men had surrounded the ranch.
Nia disliked every version.
Blake found it hilarious.
“You're becoming a legend.”
“I fired one arrow.”
“Legends require improvements.”
“They require lies.”
“That's the frontier.”
She rolled her eyes.
Life returned to normal.
But their relationship did not.
Something had shifted during the storm.
Blake found reasons to work near her.
Nia noticed when he entered rooms.
Silences became charged.
One evening Blake sat beside her on the porch.
“I've been thinking.”
“That is dangerous.”
He looked offended.
“I thought you liked me.”
“I tolerate you.”
“Excellent foundation for romance.”
Nia froze.
Blake realized what he had said.
Both looked away.
For once, the confident cowboy had nothing.
Nia eventually whispered, “Romance?”
Blake rubbed his jaw.
“Apparently my mouth has decided to ruin everything.”
“It has not ruined anything.”
He looked at her.
Their eyes held.
Before either could move closer, thunder sounded in the distance.
Nia stood.
“Storm.”
Blake looked toward the sky.
Dark clouds were gathering again.
Several horses became restless.
Within twenty minutes, rain exploded.
One gelding escaped through a loose gate.
Nia grabbed her coat.
Blake groaned.
“Absolutely not again.”
“The horse—”
“I know.”
They rode.
They found the animal among rocks.
They freed it.
Then wind knocked Nia down the muddy slope.
History repeated itself.
Blake scrambled after her.
He reached her.
Pulled her up.
Held her.
This time, however, fear overwhelmed restraint.
“Don't ever scare me like that again.”
Nia looked up.
“Blake?”
His hands shook.
“You walked into my life half-dead, pointed arrows at criminals, rearranged my kitchen, insulted my horse training, and somehow made this place feel alive again.”
Nia stared.
Blake took both her hands.
“Nia, marry me.”
Thunder rolled across the desert.
She froze.
“What?”
“Marry me.”
For perhaps the first time in her life, Nia had no answer.
Because the thing Blake offered was the exact thing she had once been told she could never truly have.
A household.
A family.
A place someone wanted her to remain.
And standing in the rain, Nia realized that accepting might frighten her more than crossing the desert alone ever had.
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