Harsh screams, the pounding of heavy boots, and the sound of a body hitting the ground tore through the peaceful stillness of the farm.
Eman burst outside, his heart nearly stopping at the sight before him. His grandfather, Silas Ryland, was surrounded in the courtyard by Vernon Hail and twenty thugs. They were beating him with rifle butts, kicking him in the chest, and dragging him across the ground like he was nothing more than a lifeless object.Silas struggled to stand, blood streaming down his cheek, his voice strained: "This land is not for sale."The words made Vernon laugh with pure disdain. "Old man, I am giving you exactly ten days. If you do not sign the papers, I will come back and finish this."Then he nodded a signal. Two of his men threw a rope over the branch of the old oak tree in the front yard. Before Eman could reach them, they had already grabbed Silas by the legs, yanked him upside down, and left him hanging, head dangling toward the ground, blood dripping steadily.Eman screamed, his voice cracking from horror, "Stop! He is an old man! You are going to kill him!"Vernon just shrugged, brushing off the plea like it was a passing breeze. "Whether he lives or dies is up to him. Not me."They walked away laughing, their cruel voices echoing, leaving Eman shaking as he scrambled up to cut the rope. When Silas dropped, his body was limp, his breath so faint it felt like a gust of wind could carry it away. Eman cradled his grandfather, his tears mixing with blood.And in that desperate moment, he remembered the debt of honor his grandfather had once spoken of—the one debt that might be able to save them now.As soon as he finished bandaging his grandfather's wounds, Eman knew he had no other choice. Silas was breathing faintly, like a flame on the verge of going out, and the ten-day deadline Vernon Hail had given them felt no different from a death sentence. If Eman did not act now, his grandfather would die, and the Ryland farm would disappear from the map of this harsh western land.