I Had To Choose Between Keeping My Ranch And Saving Six Strangers

low. “Now.”

I grabbed my Winchester and walked to the porch edge. The glint came again. A silhouette. A rider, watching us.

He turned and disappeared. He was a scout, going back to report.

“Is it him?” Martha asked, terrified.

“It was a scout. Hastings knows where you are.”

“We have to run—”

“No,” I said firmly. “Let him try.”

“I can’t let you destroy your continue reading …