He Bought a ranch for $1 — Then Met the Girl Living Inside
Chapter 2
The lead rider dismounted and came toward the porch, hand riding easy on his gun belt.
“Evie Wray!” he called. “We know you’re in there. Time to settle this like civilized people.”
Caleb stepped onto the porch. “This is private property,” he said, voice steadier than his heart. “You and your friends need to move along.”
“Looks like the little lady found herself a protector,” the man said, cold. “We’re here for what belongs to our employer — the Garretts.”
“I don’t see any papers,” Caleb said. “Far as I know, everything on this ranch belongs to me now.”
“The way we figure it,” the man said, “Miss Wray’s been squatting here, maybe turned up some things that need returning. Call her out, and we can talk reasonable.” His hand settled on his pistol. “Or we can stop being reasonable.”
“Saw two figures at that window not five minutes ago, Wade,” the thin rider called. Behind Caleb, the house had gone very quiet.
“Resist,” the man said, “and you’ll be buried on your own property before sunset.”
The front door opened. Evie stepped out, chin raised, a small pack slung over her shoulder. “Enough,” she said. “This man has nothing to do with our business. Let him go, and I’ll come with you willingly.”
“Don’t,” Caleb said.
“Yes,” she said softly. “You’ve already done more than anyone had a right to expect.”
The earth began to tremble — hoofbeats coming hard from the eastern trail. “Sheriff,” the sharp-eyed rider said. “Sheriff Bale, and four men with him.”
The outlaw’s jaw tightened. “Search the house,” he ordered. “Before —”
Caleb moved between the man and the door. “You’re not going anywhere near my house.”
The pistol cleared leather so fast Caleb barely saw it — cold metal against his forehead, the smell of gun oil and sweat. “Last chance to be smart,” the man growled.
“Wade Vance!” The shout came from two hundred yards. “Step away from those people.” The outlaw’s eyes widened as a badge glinted.
“Warrant, Vance,” the sheriff called, reining in hard, his deputies fanning out. “Murder of Ephraim Wray. Robbery. Conspiracy. A witness finally came forward — Jeb Corning. He saw you and the Garretts rig that mine.”
Evie gasped. “Someone saw what happened to my father.”
The outlaw’s hand was shaking now, the gun still pressed to Caleb’s forehead. His companions backed away, hands rising. “You didn’t say nothing about murder, Wade,” the thin one said, and bolted for his horse.
The outlaw stood alone, outnumbered, the noose closing around his name. “This isn’t over,” he whispered. “The Garretts will never stop hunting her —”
“Then put the gun down,” the sheriff said, “and let’s not have anyone else die today.”
Caleb felt the barrel tremble against his skin, and in the space between one heartbeat and the next, he understood with a terrible, clear certainty that the man was about to make a choice that would kill them all.