Chapter 7

"Stay inside!" Elder Tahna commanded, his old voice cutting through the panic like an iron blade.Ethan stood up from Kip's bedside, drawing his Winchester rifle from his scabbard, working the lever with a sharp, decisive snap that loaded a heavy .44-40 cartridge into the chamber.He walked to the narrow glass window beside the door, peering out through the frosty pane into the moonlit yard.Across the snow-covered clearing, twelve mounted riders had formed a tight, menacing crescent around the camp's central fire pit. They wore long, heavy oilskin coats over wool trousers, their hats pulled low against the blowing snow. Every man carried a repeating rifle or a double-barrel shotgun resting across his saddle horn.At the center of the column rode a tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick, iron-gray beard and a dark wool coat trimmed with beaver fur. He carried a brass-bound lantern in his left hand, casting a harsh, yellow light across the frightened faces of the camp's women and children who stood huddled outside their shelters.This was Silas Vance—the chief land agent for the Northern Pacific Railroad Company."Tahna!" Vance's deep, gravelly voice boomed across the snowy yard, easily cutting through the whistling mountain gale. "Bring your people out! By order of the Territorial District Court, this land has been declared government property subject to railroad right-of-way! You have until sunrise to pack your tents and move south!"Inside the lodge, Aiyana stepped to Ethan's side, her long Springfield rifle raised to her shoulder, her dark eyes blazing with an absolute, fearless hatred."They won't wait until sunrise," Aiyana whispered, her voice tight. "They burned the lower settlement two weeks ago under the same order."Ethan watched Vance's men. He saw two riders pulling short-handled torches from their saddlebags, preparing to light them against the lantern flames.He knew Vance’s kind. He had seen land agents in the southern territories; they used the threat of legal eviction to provoke a fight, then used the resulting violence as an excuse to burn everything to the ground and claim the land under emergency military decree.Ethan turned to look at Aiyana.Marriage to him was a terrifying, unknown gamble—it could protect her claim under the 1870 Territorial Treaty, but it could also place her, her family, and her land directly into the hands of a white rancher she had known for less than four hours."If we fight them with rifles," Ethan said softly, looking straight into her dark eyes, "they will kill every man in this camp and call it self-defense. If we use my father's map and the treaty law, we can stop them in court."Aiyana stared at him through the gloom of the lodge. She looked at his quiet gray eyes, at the broad, immovable set of his shoulders, and at the steady, unpretentious way he held his rifle—not as a weapon of aggression, but as a shield to protect the innocent.Slowly, deliberately, Aiyana reached down to the wooden table.She picked up Ethan's paper survey map, folded it with care, and tucked it deep inside the breast pocket of her buckskin coat, right over her heart.She looked up at Ethan, her chin raised high, her posture proud and unyielding.

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