Page 12 of My Apocalypse Cowboy
I'm starting to think I don't want to leave at all.
I'm checking on the herd in the back pasture, enjoying the morning sun and the way the cattle have finally accepted me as part of their routine, when I spot the dust cloud on the horizon.
Vehicles. Moving fast.
My stomach drops. In this world, vehicles moving with purpose toward isolated ranches rarely bring good news.
I'm already running toward the house when Joseph appears, rifle in hand, expression grim.
"You see them?" he asks.
"Three trucks. Maybe four." I'm breathing hard from the sprint. "How long?"
"Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen." He hands me a pistol. "Iron Wolves?"
"Has to be." My hands shake as I check the magazine. "I should go. If I leave now—"
"No." His voice is flat, final. "We handle this together."
"Joseph, they're here because of me. Because they know survivors from Clearwater scattered and they're tracking us down."
"They're here because they want my cattle. You're just an excuse."
"But—"
"No." He grips my shoulders, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You don't run from fights you can win, remember? Well, we can win this one."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been preparing for this day for three years. And because I've got you."
The faith in his voice steadies me. I nod, pushing down the fear. "What's the plan?"
"They'll try to intimidate first. Demand tribute, threaten violence if we don't comply." His jaw tightens. "We make it clear that's not happening."
"And then?"
"Then we convince them to find easier prey."
The trucks roar into the yard fifteen minutes later—four of them, just like I predicted. Men pile out, armed and aggressive, exactly what I expected from the Iron Wolves. But my blood turns to ice when I see who's leading them.
George. The same bastard who led the assault on Clearwater.
"Well, well," he calls out, spotting me on the porch. "Rebecca Rennick. We've been looking for you."
"I bet you have," I call back, surprised by how steady my voice sounds.
"You led us on quite a chase. But we figured you'd surface eventually. Survivors always do." He grins, showing a missing tooth. "And look what we found. A nice little operation, good man, valuable livestock. This is working out better than expected."
Joseph steps into view, rifle held casually but ready. "That's close enough."
"Easy there, friend." George spreads his hands in a gesture of false peace. "We're not here for trouble. Just want to talk business."
"I don't do business with the Iron Wolves."
"Smart man. We've got a reputation." George's grin turns threatening. "Here's how this works. You give us half your herd, plus the woman, and we leave you alone. Refuse, and we take everything. Including your life."
"Counter offer," Joseph says calmly. "You leave now, and I don't put a bullet in your head."
