He rose slow, scanning the dark. A figure appeared at the top of the wash, tall, broad through the shoulders. moving with a hunter's silence that made Ezra's skin prickle because he hadn't heard a single footstep before the man simply was there. Ayana, the newcomers voice carried an edge sharp enough to cut. Apache unmistakably and furious in a way that had clearly been building for 3 days of hard riding. You left without a word.
3 days I have tracked you. 3 days I did not know if you were alive or already. He stopped, eyes landing on Ezra on the revolver still loose in Ezra's hand. The man's own hand moved to the knife at his belt. Fast.
Chaitton. Ayanna said sharply. Stop. Who is this? He says he's hunting the same men we are.
He says. Chaitton's eyes never left Ezra. Black eyes burning steady. White men say many things. I'm not asking you to trust me.
Ezra said, "I'm telling you why I'm here. Do with it what you want." Why should we believe a stranger who rides toward Crane's territory the same week he strikes? Because I've spent 11 years wanting exactly what you want right now. Ezra's voice didn't rise. Didn't need to.
That mark on the leather your scouts found. I've seen it before. Burned my family's barn down with it 11 years back. Killed my father with it. So, no, I'm not some fool looking for adventure.
I'm looking for the same man you are, for reasons that go back a lot further than three nights. Chaitton's hands stayed on the knife, but his eyes had changed. Something calculating now instead of only hostile. You believe him? He said to his sister.
Not quite a question. I believe he's telling the truth about the mark, Ayanna said slowly. whether he's telling the truth about everything else that I don't know yet. Then we don't know either. No, she agreed. We don't.
Chaitton finally released the knife, crossed his arms instead, studying Ezra like a puzzle he hadn't decided was worth solving. You are alone, he said. I am against 10 men, maybe more. I know the odds and still you rode. Somebody had to.