"I understand perfectly."
Norah's voice didn't waver despite her hands shaking on the rifle.
"You're bullies. You survive by making people more scared of you than they are of death. But we're not scared anymore. We're angry. And angry people with nothing left to lose are dangerous."
"Touching speech. Won't stop bullets, though."
"No. But it might make you think twice about whether this ranch is worth dying for. Because some of you will die if you attack. Maybe all of you if we get lucky. Are we worth that risk?"
The leader's smile faded.
"You're bluffing."
"Try me."
For a long moment, nobody moved.
The outlaw leader studied Norah like he was trying to determine if she meant it.
Then he looked at Harlon.
At the armed defenders.
At the fortified ranch that had seemed like an easy target days ago.
His expression shifted.
Not quite fear.
Calculation.
Reassessing odds.
Then he turned his horse.
"This isn't over," he said.
"Yes, it is," Norah replied. "You just don't know it yet."
The outlaws withdrew to confer, their voices carrying on cold air, but words unclear.
Norah lowered her rifle, her hands trembling so badly she nearly dropped it.
Harlon appeared beside her.
"That was insane."
"I know."
"It might have just gotten us all killed."
"Or it might have saved us."
Norah watched the outlaws arguing among themselves.
"They were expecting victims. We gave them a fight before it even started. That changes things."
"Or makes them angry enough to attack harder."
"Maybe."
They waited.
Minutes stretched into eternity.
The outlaws kept conferring, their body language growing more agitated.
Then gunfire erupted.
But not from the outlaws.
From behind them.
Riders poured over the ridge.
Ranchers from farther north, attracted by smoke from the Morrison fire, armed and angry and tired of living in fear.
Maybe 15 of them.
Not enough to turn the tide completely, but enough to make Black Hollow's odds much worse.
The outlaws found themselves caught between two forces.
Their easy raid suddenly a potential massacre.
Their leader made the smart choice.
He signaled retreat.
Black Hollow scattered, riding north fast, leaving behind threats and bluster but no violence.
The new arrivals pursued for a while, then returned, whooping with victory.
"Did we win?" someone asked uncertainly.
"For today," Harlon said. "For today, we won."
The celebration was muted.
Everyone understood this was a temporary victory.
That Black Hollow might come back.
That the threat hadn't disappeared.
Just retreated.