Dileia's suggestion stunned Elias.
For months, every unexpected sound had made her flinch.
Every stranger had been a threat.
Every open road had looked like somewhere to flee.
Now she stood in the burned remains of the livery saying they should invite Silas Croft into the canyon.
Elias studied her.
“What exactly are you thinking?”
“That if we keep running, he chooses where we fight.”
“Hale just told us six men are coming.”
“I know.”
“And you want them at the cabin?”
“I want Silas somewhere he believes he's in control.”
Elias rubbed his jaw.
“That sounds like something I would've suggested fifteen years ago.”
“Was that before or after you learned better?”
“Before.”
“Then maybe teach me the part where you learned better.”
Despite the situation, Elias smiled.
Hale did not.
“This isn't funny.”
“No,” Elias said. “It isn't.”
The marshal lowered his voice.
“If Croft enters that canyon, I cannot promise I can legally protect either of you.”
Dileia looked at him.
“Can you legally protect me now?”
Hale hesitated.
“No.”
“Then we're done waiting for permission.”
The statement changed something in Elias.
He remembered the woman in the Golden Spur saying don't make it worse.
That woman had expected pain before it arrived.
The woman standing before him now was still frightened.
But fear no longer controlled the direction of her feet.
They returned to the cabin before dark.
Elias spent the journey studying terrain.
The canyon narrowed half a mile below the cabin.
A frozen creek wound through its center.
High ridges stood on both sides.
Years earlier Elias had hunted elk from those ridges.
Now he began looking at them the way he once looked at battle maps.
Sightlines.
Cover.
Escape routes.
Dileia noticed.
“You've changed.”
“So have you.”
“That isn't what I mean.”
He glanced at her.
“You're looking at the trees like they're soldiers.”
“They're better behaved.”
She gave him a faint smile.
At the cabin, Elias unlocked an old chest beneath his bed.
Inside was the life he had buried.
A military coat.
Maps.
A brass compass.
A field knife.
Cleaning tools.
And a long rifle wrapped in oilcloth.
Dileia watched from the doorway.
“You kept all of it.”
“Enough.”
“Why?”
Elias ran a cloth across the rifle's barrel.
“Because throwing something away doesn't mean it disappears.”
She sat beside him.
“You were a marksman?”
“Scout.”
“What did you do?”
“Went where people didn't want me.”
“And came back?”
“Usually.”
She smiled.
Then her face sobered.
“I'm afraid.”
“Good.”
Dileia frowned.
“Good?”
“Fear keeps you from doing stupid things.”
“You're planning to fight six armed men.”
“Exactly why I'm terrified.”
She stared.
“You don't look terrified.”
“Practice.”
Over the next two days, they prepared.
Elias moved supplies into a rock shelter north of the cabin in case the house burned.
Dileia hid food and blankets there.
He showed her how to fire a revolver.
Her first shot missed a tree completely.
“Where did it go?” she asked.
“Possibly Colorado.”
She glared.
Her second shot hit bark.
By the sixth, she struck the center.
Elias nodded.
“You learn fast.”
“I had motivation.”
They rigged bells on fishing line along the lower trail.
Not traps.
Warnings.
Elias refused to build anything intended to kill before it became necessary.
That surprised Dileia.
“You're expecting them to shoot.”
“Yes.”
“Then why wait?”
“Because there's a difference between defending yourself and becoming the first thing you fear.”
She looked at him.
“Did someone teach you that?”
“No.”
His expression darkened.
“I learned it after doing the opposite.”
That evening they sat outside watching the sunset stain the mountains red.
Dileia held a tin cup of coffee.
“Do you regret buying me?”
Elias looked offended.
“Again with that word.”
“You did exchange money.”
“I bought Abel's cooperation.”
“Two dollars.”
“Worst bargain he ever made.”
She smiled.
Then asked, “Do you regret helping me?”
Elias looked toward the valley.
“No.”
“Even now?”
“Especially now.”
“Why?”
He thought before answering.
“Before you came here, I survived every day.”
“And?”
“That was all.”
Dileia looked down.
Elias continued.
“I woke. Worked. Ate. Slept. Repeated.”
“You were safe.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe safe is enough.”
“No.”
His answer came softly.
“Not anymore.”
Dileia's fingers tightened around her cup.
She wanted to ask what that meant.
She did not.
Instead she said, “If this ends badly—”
“Don't.”
“I need to say it.”
He looked at her.
“If this ends badly, don't let Silas take me alive.”
Elias stood.
“No.”
“Elias.”
“No.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand exactly what you're asking.”
“You didn't live it.”
“No.”
“Then don't tell me what I should fear.”
He turned back toward her.
“I won't.”
His voice softened.
“But I will tell you this. If Silas comes, you choose your life. Not him. Not me. You.”
Dileia blinked back tears.
“You say things like freedom is simple.”
“It isn't.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“No.”
Elias crouched in front of her.
“Freedom is expensive.”
She whispered, “Two dollars?”
He smiled slightly.
“Sometimes.”
Then he stood before the moment could become something neither was ready to name.
The next morning, bells rang.
Not from the valley.
From the northern trail.
Elias grabbed his rifle.
Dileia reached for the revolver.
A rider appeared.
Marshal Hale.
He dismounted quickly.
“They're coming.”
“How far?”
“Hours.”
“Six men?”
“Seven now.”
Elias swore.
“Croft?”
“With them.”
Dileia went still.
Hale continued.
“He sent this.”
He handed her a note.
Dileia stared at it without opening it.
Elias said, “You don't have to read it.”
She unfolded the paper.
There were only two lines.
Come willingly and Carr lives.
Refuse and I burn everything he owns before I take you anyway.
Dileia folded it.
Her hands were steady.
That frightened Elias more than shaking would have.
“What are you thinking?”
She walked to the stove.
Burned the note.
Then said, “He still believes I'm the woman who ran.”
“Aren't you?”
“No.”
She looked at Elias.
“That woman had nowhere to go.”
Hale watched them both.
“What do you intend?”
Dileia answered.
“I surrender.”
Elias stared.
“No.”
She raised a hand.
“Pretend to surrender.”
He said nothing.
“They want me.”
“Yes.”
“So they won't expect me to walk toward them.”
“No.”
“I go to the frozen creek.”
Elias's mind began working.
“Open ground.”
“Yes.”
“Ridge above it.”
“Yes.”
“Too exposed.”
“For them too.”
Hale shook his head.
“This is madness.”
Elias looked toward the canyon.
“No.”
He slowly nodded.
“It could work.”
Dileia smiled.
“See?”
“I said could.”
Hale rubbed his temples.
“I can't believe I'm listening to this.”
Elias looked at him.
“You don't have to participate.”
The marshal sighed.
“If I leave, Croft kills both of you and tells everyone you fired first.”
“So stay.”
Hale looked at Dileia.
“What happens when Croft orders you to kneel?”
Her expression hardened.
“I don't.”
The plan formed quickly.
Hale would hide near the lower trees as witness and legal authority.
Elias would take the eastern ridge.
Dileia would walk alone to the creek.
If Silas attempted arrest under the warrant, Hale would intervene.
If Silas acted outside the law, they would know his true purpose.
“What if he shoots Hale?” Dileia asked.
Hale grimaced.
“I've been asking myself the same thing.”
By afternoon they heard horses.
Many.
Elias climbed the ridge before sunset.
Through his rifle scope he saw seven men entering the canyon.
Silas rode in the center.
Dileia watched from behind a pine.
She had not seen him in nearly a year.
Yet her body remembered before her mind did.
Her stomach tightened.
Her palms went numb.
She saw the scar where her knife had entered him.
He was alive.
Alive because she had failed.
Silas stopped below the cabin.
Looked up.
Then shouted:
“Dileia!”
The sound of her name in his voice dragged her backward through time.
A locked room.
A belt.
A hand across her throat.
You belong to me.
She nearly ran.
Then Elias's voice came from memory.
You choose your life.
Not him.
Not me.
You.
Dileia stepped from behind the tree.
Silas saw her.
And smiled.
“Come down.”
She began walking toward the creek.
Alone.
---