"And we've got someone who thinks different than the rest of us. Maybe that's what we need."
"You're asking us to trust our lives to a woman who's been here a month?" one rancher said, his tone dismissive.
Charlotte's eyes flashed.
"I'm asking you to trust your lives to someone who's kept this family alive through winter when everyone expected them to fail. Gender doesn't enter into it. Competence does."
"It's insane."
"So is facing Black Hollow alone."
Charlotte's voice cut through the room.
"I'm in. Whatever Harlon and Norah are planning, I'm in."
Willis nodded slowly.
"My sons and I will help. We bring what livestock we can move, supplies we can carry."
"How long would we need to hold?" someone asked.
"Until Black Hollow decides we're not worth the trouble," Harlon said. "Or until winter breaks and we can get help from town."
"That could be months."
"Or it could be days if they hit us hard and fast and we're not ready."
Thomas stepped forward.
"I say we do it. We consolidate. We prepare. And we show them we're not going to be victims."
One by one, the ranchers agreed.
Not because they thought it would work.
Because every other option led to certain destruction.
The next three days were chaos.
Families arrived in wagons loaded with whatever they could carry.
Livestock filled the pastures.
Cattle.
Horses.
Chickens.
Even a few pigs.
The house became a refugee camp.
People sleeping anywhere there was space.
The barn overflowed.
Tents were erected in the yard despite the snow.
Norah organized it all with efficiency born from years of managing impossible situations.
She assigned sleeping spaces.
Rationed supplies.
Coordinated cooking for 30 people with provisions meant for eight.
Charlotte worked alongside her, the two women forming a partnership based on shared pragmatism and refusal to accept defeat.
"You've done this before," Charlotte observed while they were sorting blankets.
"Managed chaos? Yes. Different chaos, but the principles are the same."
"Most women would have run by now."
"Most women didn't marry into this family."
Norah counted blankets.
Realized they didn't have enough.
Started calculating who could share.
"Besides, running just means dying somewhere else. At least here I can fight."
"You really think we can hold against Black Hollow?"
"I think we can make them bleed enough that they decide easier targets are smarter choices."
Charlotte smiled grimly.
"I like the way you think."
The men built barricades from wagons and timber.
Thomas and the Webb sons dug defensive positions around the perimeter.
Even the children helped.
Carrying ammunition.
Filling water barrels.
Doing whatever small jobs kept them useful.
Reeve worked alongside the men like he belonged there, his small hands competent with tools.