General Vance waited with a contingent of twenty armed guards. Silas stood beside him.
"You have a lot of nerve showing your face, traitor," Vance spat as Elias dismounted.
Elias ignored the General and looked at Silas, then back to Vance. "I'm not here to surrender. I'm here to offer a trade."
Vance laughed harshly. "You have nothing I want except your head on a pike and stolen property."
"I have the Gatling gun," Elias said calmly. "And I have the high ground. If you march into the Sierras, you will lose a hundred men before you even see an Apache tent. We will bleed you dry. But, if you agree to draw new borders—if you recognize the Sierra Madres as sovereign Apache territory—we will give you the gun, and we will not ride north of the river."
Vance’s face turned crimson. "You dare dictate terms to the United States Army?"
Before Vance could signal his guards, Elu’s hand blurred. A throwing knife thudded into the wooden table inches from Vance’s hand. The guards raised their rifles, but Tala had already drawn both her revolvers, cocking the hammers with a menacing click. Catori stood perfectly still, her eyes locked onto the General with an intensity that made the veteran soldier shiver.
"We do not dictate," Catori said, her voice echoing with a strange, harmonic resonance. "We offer you a chance to keep your men alive. Do not let your pride dig graves for soldiers who have mothers waiting for them."
Silas leaned in and whispered to Vance. "Take the deal, General. I know him. He's not bluffing. If you fight them in those mountains, it’ll be Custer all over again, and your career will end in a bloodbath."
Vance looked at the three women, then at the white man who stood beside them, a unified front of terrifying resolve. He saw the cold calculation in Elias’s eyes and the wild, untamed danger in the sisters.
Slowly, Vance lowered his hand. "The river," he growled. "You stay south of the river. And I want the gun tomorrow at dawn."
"Agreed," Elias said.
The handover was tense, but it was honored. The Cavalry took their heavy gun and marched back north, leaving the rugged expanse of the Sierra Madres to Chief Victorio’s people. They had secured a homeland, a sanctuary hidden away from the greed of the expanding nation.
Elias, Tala, Catori, and Elu stood on a high cliff, watching the dust of the retreating army fade into the horizon. The wind whipped through their hair, carrying the scent of pine and freedom.
"They will return one day," Tala said, resting her hand on the hilt of her knife. "The white men always want more."
"When they do, we will be ready," Elias replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He looked at Catori, who was smiling at the setting sun, and Elu, who was already scanning the valleys for fresh game.
He was no longer a drifter lost in the Mojave. He was a guardian of the Sierra Madres. The Apache Chief had asked him to choose one, but Elias knew the truth: the spirits of the desert had chosen him to stand with all three. Together, they were the vanguard, the unbreakable shield of their people, a legend carved into the red rock that would outlast the armies, the generals, and the changing times.