Chapter 9

Silas Vance’s face turned an ugly, mottled crimson beneath his gray beard. His right hand tightened around the leather reins of his horse until his glove seams strained.He knew the territorial law. He knew that if Ethan Cole and Aiyana presented that joint covenant and the 1870 treaty defense to Federal Judge Samuel Miller in Santa Fe, the railroad company’s right-of-way injunction would be frozen in court for two years—costing the syndicate hundreds of thousands of dollars in delayed construction."You think a piece of paper and a fake marriage will stop forty miles of iron track, Cole?" Vance sneered, leaning forward over his saddle horn, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "Accidents happen in these mountains during the winter. Men freeze in drifts. Cabins catch fire. People disappear.""Try it, Vance," Ethan said, his gray eyes turning as cold and hard as river granite.He brought his Winchester rifle up, leveling the steel barrel squarely at the center of Vance’s chest. Beside him, Aiyana raised her long Springfield rifle, her finger resting lightly against the trigger.From the surrounding shadows of the camp, ten young native warriors stepped out from behind the wickiups, their repeating rifles and long bows raised, framing Vance’s twelve riders in a tight, deadly circle of steel and flint.The silence that descended over the clearing was so absolute that the falling snow sounded like sand hitting dry leaves.Vance looked at the rifle pointed at his heart, then at the ten armed warriors surrounding his men in the shadows. He was a ruthless man, but he was not a fool; he knew that even if his riders managed to fire a volley, Ethan’s first bullet would tear clean through his chest before he could pull his horse around."You've bought yourself some time, Cole," Vance growled, his teeth grinding together in rage. "A few days, maybe a week. But the territorial marshal will be riding north from the railhead on Friday with twenty deputies. We'll see how your paper holds up against federal lead."Vance hauled his bay horse around in a sharp, frantic circle, digging his spurs into its flanks. "Pull out!" he barked at his men.The twelve riders turned their mounts, kicking up clouds of white powder, and galloped back out through the willow flats into the dark storm, their yellow lanterns vanishing into the night.Ethan slowly lowered his Winchester rifle, letting out a long, ragged breath that plumed white in the freezing air.He turned to look at Aiyana.She was standing right beside him, her Springfield rifle still held ready, her dark eyes looking at him with a mix of fierce pride, relief, and a deep, unuttered gratitude.In the span of a single night, amid a blizzard and under the barrel of a railroad agent's gun, two strangers from opposite sides of the frontier had been bound together by a covenant that would change both of their lives forever.

By dawn, the mountain gale had finally died down, leaving behind an ice-clear, brilliant blue sky that turned the snowfields of the Northern Ridge into blinding sheets of white light.Inside the elder’s lodge, the hearth fire burned low and warm. Kip was sitting up against a pile of deer hides, drinking a warm bowl of broth prepared by his grandmother, his color returning rapidly.Ethan sat on a wooden bench near the table, cleaning the snow from the action of his Winchester rifle with an oiled rag.

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