“Surprise,” he said.
From the other side, Ethel emerged from the orchard with a shotgun resting across her shoulder like she’d just stepped out of church.
The leader glanced around, calculating. “This isn’t over,” he said. “You think a couple rifles will stop what’s coming?”
Abby walked down the steps, stopping at the edge of the porch. “No,” she said, “but it’ll slow it down long enough for the law to catch up.”
The man smirked again. Then he whistled. The riders turned and, in a show of forced control, backed their horses away. They didn’t run, but they left. That was more dangerous because it meant they still believed they’d win.
After they disappeared down the road, Thorne joined Caleb and Abby on the porch.
“They’re not finished,” the sheriff said. “That was just an introduction.”
“We can’t live like this,” Abby said, “with rifles at the window and smoke in the wind.”
“No,” Caleb agreed. “We finish it. One way or another.”
Thorne nodded slowly. “There’s a federal marshal passing through Sheridan. I’ll wire him. He won’t come for one barn. But for threats, extortion, armed riders—that’s different.”
Abby looked out toward the road. “And what if they come before help does?”
“Then we hold,” Caleb said. “Same as we’ve always done.”
That night, no one slept deeply. Caleb sat by the door with a shotgun across his lap, eyes watching the darkness. Abby tried to rest beside the boys, but her dreams were filled with fire and hoofbeats, voices calling her name from smoke.
When morning came, it brought silence. Too much of it.
The first shot cracked the stillness wide open. It came from the south, by the fence line. Then a second. Then a third.
Abby grabbed her rifle and ran. Caleb was already outside, sprinting toward the barn ruins where the deputies had taken watch. One of them, Jasper, was limping back, bleeding from his arm.
“They came from the creek bed!” he shouted. “Five, maybe six! Tried to circle around!”
Abby dropped beside the fence, rifle up, scanning. She saw one red scarf moving low along the ridge. She fired. Missed. But it sent him diving. From the window, Ethel fired a warning shot that split a branch above another rider’s head. Thorne barked orders, moving from cover to cover. Then Caleb ran straight into the fray.
“Get back!” Abby screamed.
“I’m not letting them push closer!”
He ducked low behind a rock pile, laying down cover fire. For twenty minutes, the ranch became a war zone. Smoke, shouting, hooves, lead flying through air that used to hold birdsong and dust.
Then came a cry from inside the house. Luke.
Abby’s heart stopped. She ran, bolting inside, throwing open the bedroom door. The boy was crying, but safe. Someone had tried the back entrance. The door bore fresh gouges like it had been kicked or pried. They’d wanted more than just Caleb. They’d wanted to take.
She carried Luke to the kitchen, bracing the back door, grabbing Levi in her other arm. Caleb burst in a moment later.
“They’re pulling back,” he gasped. “For now.”
She stared at him, breath ragged. “This isn’t a warning anymore,” she said. “It’s a siege.”
He nodded. And behind them, Thorne entered, covered in dust and sweat.
“They’ll be back,” he said. “At night maybe. With more.”
Caleb looked to Abby. “This ends now,” he said. “Tomorrow I ride to town. I speak to Royce. I end it.”
“No,” she said. “We ride together.”..
