Higgins begrudgingly filled the order, but the tension in the room was suffocating. As they exited the store, a group of drunk ranch hands blocked their path. "Lookee here," a man with a scarred cheek sneered. "Thorne brought his pet into town." Elias didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his hand hovering over the Colt revolver on his hip. "Move aside, Jenkins." Jenkins laughed, but looking into Elias’s cold, unflinching eyes, he slowly backed away. The message was clear: Elias would kill to protect the woman standing beside him.
The confrontation in town had consequences. A week later, as Elias and Nita were riding back from the southern ridge after repairing a fence line, the crack of a rifle shattered the afternoon quiet.
A bullet whizzed past Elias’s ear, embedding itself in a pine tree. "Get down!" Elias roared, pulling Nita off her horse and diving behind a cluster of boulders. Three men on horseback—Jenkins and his cronies—were firing from the ridge above. They wanted to teach Elias a lesson about breaking frontier hierarchy.
Elias returned fire with his Winchester, but they were pinned down. Suddenly, Nita tapped his shoulder. She pointed to a narrow, dry creek bed that flanked the ridge. Without a word, she took a spare revolver from Elias’s saddlebag and slipped away into the brush like a phantom. Minutes later, as Elias kept the men busy with covering fire, two rapid shots rang out from the trees above the attackers. Jenkins screamed as a bullet tore through his shoulder. Realizing they were being outflanked by an unseen shooter, the cowards panicked, turned their horses, and fled.
Nita emerged from the brush, the revolver still smoking in her hand. Elias looked at her, his heart pounding not just from the adrenaline, but from absolute awe.
That night, the adrenaline of the ambush faded, leaving behind a raw, intense emotional clarity. They sat by the fire, cleaning their weapons in silence. "You could have run today," Elias said quietly. "In the brush. You could have taken the horse and kept going. Back to your people." Nita paused, looking at the firelight dancing on the barrel of the gun. She set it down and moved closer to him. "My people are far away," she said softly, her English clear and deliberate. "But I did not want to run. I stayed... for this."