“‘T’ain’t the farm that’ll be heading Albany way, Archer. It’ll be you. You and your family.”

It was Levi Smede who’d spoken. A thin smile played across his sharp-edged face.

Archer stared at him. His finger slid inside the musket’s trigger guard. “You’re threatening my family, now?”

Deacon threw the brother a sharp look before turning back. “I’ve orders to deliver you to the Board, under guard if necessary. It’s up to you.”

“Well, I suppose that answers that question,” Archer said.

“Question?” Deacon frowned.

“Why there’s six of you.”

He looked along the line. Deacon was riding point, but based on their reputations, the Smedes were undoubtedly the more significant threat, though Ephraim was the only one of the two holding a musket. Levi’s was still strapped across his shoulders. Of the other three, Shaw and Meeker, although they had their weapons to hand, would probably hesitate. Jeremiah Kidd, Archer sensed, would be too scared to do anything, even if he did manage to un-sling his musket in time.

Throughout the exchange, Archer had become increasingly and uncomfortably aware that Beth was standing behind him. He knew that it would be no use telling her to go inside. Her independent streak was part of what had attracted him to her in the first place. He was surprised it had taken her this long to come out to see what was happening.

“There’s just you and me,” Deacon said, his voice adopting a more conciliatory tone. “No reason why this can’t be settled amicably. All you’re required to do is ride with us to Johnstown and place your signature on the document. Small price to pay for all of this.”

His eyes shifted to the porch where Beth Archer was framed in the doorway. The inference was clear.

Archer stepped forward. “Go home, Deacon. You’re trespassing. This is my land. I fought for it once. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t do so again.”

Deacon turned his attention away from the house and stared down at him in silence, eyeing the musket. Finally, he nodded. “Very well, if that’s your decision; so be it. Ephraim, Levi …”

So much for “just you and me”, Archer thought.

“Will!” Beth cried, as Levi Smede grinned and drew a pistol from his belt.

Archer threw the musket to his shoulder.

“Inside, Beth!” he yelled, as Deacon brought his gun up.

Archer fired.

The ball struck Levi Smede in the chest, lifting him over the back of his saddle and down into the dust. The pistol flew from Smede’s hand.