“So, just yer lonesome on the homestead?”

I hold my breath. Ethan shifts nervously beside me.

“Yes, sir. The boy I took in died a few years ago. Rancher’s flu. Had a renter, but he cleared out some months back. Don’t mind the quiet.”

The men pause for an eternity. I glance down at Ethan. Even in this dim light I can see his face twisted with terror. If we get out of this, I’ll give him the caramel I’ve been saving since Christmas to lift that look off his face.

“Awful big house for a stiff such as yerself. Mind if we give ’er a look? Couple crim’nals we hoping to strap in irons.”

Liar! They’re looking for girls. Everyone’s looking for girls.

Arn blows out his breath. “Rather you boys be on your way. Got more milking to do.”

The Sheriff clucks his tongue. “Uh—uh. Milking’s a morning chore. Hiding something, are ya? We’ll jist take a peek.”

Sheriff Tate pushes a shrill whistle through his teeth. Boots thunk to the hard-packed dirt.

“Now hold on!” Arn yells.

I scramble up the ladder and press my shoulder to the cellar door. I steady my trembling hands. Ethan, the dull shadow beneath me, begins to cry. I flick my eyes away and swallow hard. I don’t care what happens to me, but nothing can happen to him. I couldn’t stand it.

My front door bangs open, and angry tomcat yowling cuts across the yard. I hop down a peg and fix my eye back to the peephole.

Auntie Bell bursts out of the house, screaming, her hair wiping around her like a great gray storm. Her arms flail as she barrels toward the Sheriff.

“You stinking, rotten pig eater!” She lurches, her hands hooked like talons. My stepfather grabs for her dress. The cotton shift pulls tight around her wrinkled body as she strains to attack.

She claws at the Sheriff’s face. “You loathsome, dirty hair pie! I spit in your mother’s grave!” Auntie kicks out wildly. One of her clogs flies off and smacks into the Sheriff’s thigh. He stumbles back and drops his hand to his knife. He will kill Auntie and Arn, but I’ll shoot him before that happens. I tuck my head to my chest and feel the adrenaline buzz inside me. The metal feels smooth under my trigger finger. I press my shoulder to the door.

Laughter explodes through the air. I slam my face back to the peephole so fast a splinter sinks into my cheek.

A crooked smile lights up the Sheriff’s carved face. He thumps a meaty hand on his knee. “Batty, old witch,” he says, cackling. He points at Auntie. “Ya got some fire left in them bones.”

His hand leaves his knife and he waves off his men. “We ain’t interested in a wrinkled ole cooz. We decent folk, not savages. You right to be careful, though. Some banditos would snatch her up, foul mouth and all.” Auntie reaches through Arn’s embrace and claws at the Sheriff. He clucks his tongue and laughs again, loud and nasty.