The first alarm came shortly after midnight. A bell rang once from the western trail, paused, then rang three times in quick succession. Jack woke in the guest room with his hand already reaching for the rifle beside the bed. Outside, the settlement had transformed from a sleeping village into a careful machine. Lamps were shaded. Children were being led toward the northern terraces. Men and women moved without shouting, carrying water buckets, blankets, and tools that could become weapons if necessary.
Isabel appeared at the doorway wearing a dark riding coat over her dress. Her veil was tied around her neck, ready to be raised if she chose.
“Three riders on the ridge,” she said.
“A larger group is coming through the western path. They are carrying oil cans.”
“Where is Chief Samuel?”
“With Naya at the grain stores. Daniel is helping move the last sacks. You’re needed at the irrigation channel.”
Jack followed her through the narrow lanes. The moon had slipped behind clouds, leaving the cliffs black against the sky. From the western ridge came the muffled sound of hooves, then a shout. A small flame appeared above the gardens, followed by another. The attackers had set fire to dry brush to illuminate their approach. The wind carried smoke down into the valley.
Jack reached the irrigation channel and found Mateo and two defenders behind a low wall. The channel ran through a shallow cut, its stone sides slick with old moss. If the attackers came down the path, they would have to cross a narrow bridge over the channel. Jack crouched beside Mateo and waited until the first silhouettes emerged. There were six men, perhaps seven, and one carried a lantern. Their leader wore a red scarf tied around his arm.
“Company men?” Jack whispered.
Mateo nodded.
“The one in front is Deputy Hask. He has been drinking with Rourke for years.”
Hask raised his lantern and called into the darkness.
“Chief Samuel! We have orders to secure the grain stores. Stand aside and nobody gets hurt.”
Chief Samuel’s voice answered from the other side of the village.
“Your orders do not give you permission to burn homes.”
The leader laughed.
“No one is burning homes. We’re putting out a fire you started.”
The lie was so brazen that Jack nearly rose in anger. Isabel’s hand touched his sleeve, holding him still. She pointed to a second group moving along the ridge above the channel. They were trying to flank the defenders, exactly as she had predicted. She slipped away with two women who knew the terraces, taking a narrow path behind the attackers. Jack wanted to follow, but his task was to hold the bridge.
Hask’s men began crossing. The first reached the center when a bell rang from the terrace. A hidden gate had been opened, releasing a rush of water into the channel. It was not enough to sweep a man away, but it made the stones slick and forced the attackers to slow down. Mateo and the defenders shouted for them to drop their weapons. One man slipped and struck his shoulder against the wall. Another fired a shot into the air. The crack echoed through the valley, waking every fear that the people had tried to keep sleeping.
Jack stepped into view, rifle aimed at the ground before Hask.
“This is a protected settlement. Leave now, and you can tell the judge you were foolish enough to follow a false order.”
Hask recognized him and smiled.
“Mercer. You should have gone home when you had the chance. The company has a warrant for you now. Resisting us makes you an outlaw.”
“Then why bring oil cans to a grain store?”
Hask’s smile faltered. Behind him, a man dropped an oil can, and it rolled across the bridge, spilling a shining trail. The smell of kerosene reached Jack. He did not need a confession. The evidence was lying in the dirt.
A sudden shout rose from the western terraces. Isabel and the two women had reached the flanking party. They had not attacked the men; instead, they had cut loose a line of empty wooden carts stored on the slope. The carts rattled down the path, forcing the attackers to scatter and breaking their formation. One man fell, another dropped his rifle, and the rest retreated toward the ridge. Isabel emerged from the smoke, breathing hard, a shallow cut visible on her cheek.
Jack moved toward her, but she waved him off.
“The grain stores are safe. Most of the food is already hidden. We need to get these men out before the fire spreads.”
The defenders formed a line and escorted Hask’s group toward the southern gate. Chief Samuel insisted that the wounded attacker be treated before being handed over to a neutral physician. The choice angered some of the younger defenders, who wanted to make the men pay for the attempt. The chief stood firm.
“We will not become what they claim we are,” he said.
“We will preserve the evidence and let the truth speak.”
By dawn, the brush fire had been contained. The grain stores were scorched but not destroyed, and the hidden food would feed the community for weeks. Two attackers had been captured, including a young man who confessed that Rourke had promised them payment for “clearing out troublemakers.” Hask refused to speak, but the oil cans, the false order, and the testimony of the captured men created a record the company could not easily erase.
Jack found Isabel at the spring, washing blood from her cheek. He held out a clean cloth.
“You should have told me you were going around the ridge.”
“You would have tried to stop me.”
“I would have asked how you planned to do it.”
“And then you would have worried aloud until the opportunity passed.” She took the cloth, and the corner of her mouth lifted.