"So have I."

The chase was over.

But the war had only begun.

They reached Red Pine Crossing shortly before sunset.

The settlement appeared suddenly between two ridges, scattered along the banks of a cold mountain river.

Smoke rose from the blacksmith shop.

A church steeple leaned slightly toward the east.

Children chased chickens through muddy streets.

A dozen horses stood outside the general store.

For a moment, Abigail believed she had finally reached safety.

Then she noticed the rifles.

Nearly every adult carried one.

A rancher buying flour had a revolver strapped to his hip.

The blacksmith kept a shotgun beside his forge.

Even the man sweeping the saloon porch had a rifle leaning against the wall.

Abigail looked at Elias.

"What happened here?"

"Ask the sheriff."

Sheriff Thomas Grady was waiting near the jail.

He was a tall man in his fifties, with silver hair and tired eyes.

"Elias Boone," he said.

"Elias."

Grady looked toward Abigail.

"Who's your passenger?"

"Abigail Mercer. She's been traveling alone."

The sheriff's expression changed.

"Alone?"

"Since her husband died."

Grady removed his hat.

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

Abigail nodded.

"Thank you."

Grady looked at Elias.

"You know what happened?"

"I met five men on the ridge."

The sheriff's jaw tightened.

"Cain?"

"Most likely."

Grady sighed.

"Then you were lucky."

Elias looked around.

"Luck had little to do with it."

The sheriff almost smiled.

"You always did have a way of saying things."

Elias turned to Abigail.

"Where's the doctor?"

"Across from the church."

They took Abigail there immediately.

Dr. Samuel Whitaker examined her for nearly half an hour.

When he finally stepped outside, his expression was serious.

"She needs rest."

"How much?" Elias asked.

"Weeks."

Abigail looked frightened.

"Weeks?"

"The journey has exhausted you," the doctor said. "You're carrying a child, and you've pushed your body too hard. Another long mountain trip could put both of you in danger."

"But I have land waiting."

"You'll have land waiting in three weeks."

"I can't afford three weeks."

Elias said nothing.

He walked away.

An hour later, he returned with a key.

"There is a cabin beside the river."

Abigail looked at him.

"For how long?"

"A month."

Her eyes widened.

"I can't pay you."

"I didn't ask you to."

"You already saved me."

"Then stop counting."

She stared at him.

"Why?"

Elias looked toward the river.

"Because somebody once did the same for me."

It was the closest thing to an explanation he had ever offered.

Abigail accepted the key.

That evening, Elias carried her belongings into the cabin.

The room was small but clean.

There was a stove, a bed, a table, two chairs, and a window facing the river.

For the first time in weeks, Abigail felt something resembling peace.

Outside, Elias stood beneath the porch roof.

She watched him from the doorway.

"Mr. Boone."

He turned.

"Thank you."

He nodded.

"Rest."

Then he walked away.

Over the following weeks, Red Pine Crossing slowly became familiar.

Abigail regained strength.

She began sewing clothes for the townspeople.

Then someone discovered she could read.

Soon she was teaching children in the church basement.

Three children became six.

Six became twelve.

She discovered that children could fill a room with noise without making it feel dangerous.

Elias visited often.

Sometimes he brought meat.

Sometimes firewood.

Sometimes he brought nothing and simply repaired something that needed repairing.

Their conversations were usually short.

"How's the mule?"

"Better."

"How are you?"

"Better."

"Baby?"

"Moving."

"Good."

Then silence.

Yet something changed between them.

Neither had intended it.

They began waiting for those quiet moments.

Elias had spent years believing solitude was safer than attachment.

Abigail had spent months believing love was something the dead carried away with them.

Neither was ready to name what was growing between them.

Then White Elk arrived.

He was a Lakota elder with silver hair, a straight back, and eyes that seemed to notice everything.

He came into town carrying cured hides and bundles of medicinal herbs.

Sheriff Grady greeted him.

"White Elk."

"Grady."

They shook hands.

Elias approached.

The elder looked at him for a long moment.

"You are Boone."

"I am."

"I heard you stopped Cain on the mountain."

"Temporarily."

White Elk nodded.

"Cain does not forget."

Elias's expression hardened.

"What did you hear?"

The elder glanced toward the mountains.

"He is gathering men."

"How many?"

"More than before."

Sheriff Grady joined them.

"Where?"

"South of the ridge."

White Elk explained that several rustlers fleeing federal marshals had joined Cain's gang.

They were desperate men.

Desperate men were dangerous.

Their plan was simple.

They intended to seize Red Pine Crossing before winter.

They would steal livestock, horses, grain, weapons, and anything else needed to survive the coming snow.

The sheriff had four deputies.

The town had perhaps sixty men capable of fighting.

Against thirty hardened outlaws, those numbers meant little.

Grady rubbed his forehead.

"We need time."

White Elk looked at Elias.

"You need preparation."

Elias nodded.

"How long?"

"Not long."

That evening, Elias called the townspeople together.

Ranchers came.

Miners came.

Hunters.

Farmers.

The blacksmith.

The schoolteacher.

Even old men who could barely lift a rifle.

Elias stood before them.

"I've spent most of my life avoiding towns," he said. "So don't mistake me for a man who enjoys this."

A few people laughed nervously.

"But Cain is coming."

Silence followed.

"We can wait for him," Elias continued, "or we can make this town difficult enough that he wishes he'd gone somewhere else."

"What do you suggest?" someone asked.

"Wagons."

Elias pointed toward the main street.

"Barricades."

He pointed toward the church.