“Don’t hurt him.”
Heads turned as one.
A woman stepped through the parted bodies like she’d been carved out of stubbornness and stitched together with grief. Her dress was brown and faded from too many washings. Her boots were scuffed, her posture straight enough to be mistaken for pride, though it was really the last brace keeping her from collapsing.
Her auburn hair was pulled into a severe bun. Her green eyes burned.
Eliza Hartman was known in Red Willow as the widow who lived alone on a failing ranch at the edge of town. Too proud to remarry. Too stubborn to sell. Too quiet, usually, to be the center of anything.
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