Almost.

Because just before darkness settled over the plains, his horses began to grow restless.

They stamped their hooves.

They turned their heads toward the northern ridge.

Sam stepped outside.

The horizon was empty.

But the horses kept staring.

Sam's hand drifted toward his rifle.

Something was coming.

And he had no idea how much his life was about to change.

Sam woke before dawn.

He couldn't explain why.

The ranch was dark.

The fire in the stove had burned low.

For several minutes he lay still, listening.

Nothing.

Then he heard it.

A distant vibration.

At first it sounded like thunder.

But the sky was clear.

Sam sat up.

The sound grew louder.

Hooves.

Hundreds of them.

He was out of bed before he had fully understood what he was hearing.

He pulled on his boots, grabbed his rifle, and stepped outside.

The cold morning air struck his face.

Then he saw them.

Riders.

They appeared on the northern ridge like shadows rising from the earth.

One line became two.

Two became dozens.

Dozens became what seemed like an endless column of mounted men and women.

Sam's stomach tightened.

He counted quickly.

He stopped counting at two hundred.

The riders wore traditional clothing mixed with leather armor and riding gear. Some carried bows. Others carried rifles. A few held long spears that caught the first rays of sunlight.

Their horses moved with remarkable discipline.

No shouting.

No chaos.

No drunken cheering.

Just silence.

A disciplined silence.

Sam backed toward the barn.

His rifle was ready.

He knew he couldn't outrun them.

He couldn't outshoot two hundred riders.

If they had come to kill him, the ranch would be a graveyard within minutes.

Then he noticed something.

The rider at the front carried a familiar leather pouch.

Kale's pouch.

Sam lowered his rifle slightly.

The riders reached the edge of the ranch and stopped.

Every horse stopped at nearly the same moment.

The leader dismounted.

He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with silver threaded through his black hair.

He walked toward Sam.

Sam kept his rifle in his hand.

The man stopped twenty feet away.

"My name is Takakota."

Sam said nothing.

"I am chief of the people you met yesterday."

Sam looked toward the riders.

"That's quite an introduction."

Takakota's expression didn't change.

"You helped Kale."

"Yes."

"He told us what happened."

"He was hungry."

Takakota nodded.

"Very hungry."

"He needed food."

"You gave him your food."

Sam shrugged.

"I had enough."

Takakota studied him.

"You had enough because you planned for yourself."

Sam frowned.

"So?"

"And yet you gave it away."

Sam didn't know where this conversation was going.

"I would have done the same for anyone."

Takakota's eyes narrowed slightly.

"That is precisely why we came."

Sam looked behind him.

"Are all two hundred of you here to say thank you?"

A few warriors smiled.

Takakota didn't.

"We came because my son was dying."

Sam's expression changed.

"Your son?"

"Kale."

Sam stared at him.

The starving traveler suddenly made more sense.

Takakota reached into the leather pouch and pulled out a small carved piece of wood.

He walked closer and held it out.

Sam hesitated before taking it.

The carving showed two hands meeting over a circle.

"What is it?"

"A promise."

"To whom?"

"To you."

Sam shook his head.

"I don't need a promise."

Takakota's voice softened.

"Perhaps you do not."

He looked around the ranch.

"Perhaps you need people."

That sentence struck Sam harder than it should have.

He had spent six years convincing himself he didn't need anyone.

Takakota seemed to see straight through him.

"You live here alone."

"By choice."

"Sometimes a man chooses loneliness because he has forgotten how to trust."

Sam's jaw tightened.

"Don't know me well enough to say that."

"No."

Takakota nodded.

"But I know the look."

Silence settled between them.

Finally, Takakota turned toward the warriors.

"My people owe a debt."

Sam immediately shook his head.

"No debt."

Takakota looked back.

"Then allow us to offer friendship."

Sam glanced at the two hundred riders.

"That's one hell of a friendship."

This time Takakota smiled.

"Perhaps."

The warriors began dismounting.

Sam tensed.

But they didn't attack.

They moved toward the ranch.

Within an hour, the place had transformed.

Some repaired the broken fence.

Others examined the barn roof.

Several helped with the cattle.

A group of women prepared a fire near the edge of the property.

Sam stood there in disbelief.

He had spent three months trying to repair one section of fence.

They fixed it before breakfast.

By noon, his barn doors had been rehung.

By evening, the water trough had been rebuilt.

Sam found himself staring.

Takakota approached.

"You work alone too much."

Sam grunted.

"Seems you've noticed."

"You are stubborn."

"So I've been told."

Takakota laughed.