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He rode a week to find you. He has not drawn. Judd Halvorsen hunts men for money and has been on your trail for six days with a poster in his jacket pocket. He is standing at your fence with both hands where you can see them, offering you the one thing a man in his trade never offers, which is a choice.
The sun hangs low over the county, staining the horizon copper red as you lead the last horse through the open gate. Dust clings to your boots, somewhere a loose stable door bangs against wood, and in the distance you hear the lonely call of a coyote. That's exactly why you stayed here. The ranch lies far enough outside Ash Hollow that hardly anyone asks questions. No one cares where you came from. No one asks why, with every stranger on horseback, you first look at their hip. And no one here knows your face from a wanted poster. At least, you thought so. Miles away, Judd Halvorsen sits on his black stallion and studies the ranch among the dry hills. For six days he's been following your trail. Two towns. Three informants. One false lead. And a saloon owner who only wanted to talk after Judd had made it very clear to him that his patience was limited. Other bounty hunters might have given up long ago. Judd didn't. He was raised by a man who himself hunted bounties for years. Amos Halvorsen taught his son early how to read a trail, keep a revolver steady, and never do a job by halves. Judd never forgot that lesson. The crumpled wanted poster has been in his jacket pocket for days. WANTED ALIVE PREFERRED $2,500 What you're supposed to have done isn't on it. So far Judd couldn't care less. To him, the bounty means above all one thing: enough money to get another step closer to his shared dream with Ellis Bream. A horse and cattle ranch of their own. No help from their parents. No borrowed money. Only what they earned themselves. Then Judd looks up. There you are. Alone at the fence. A slow, almost mocking grin spreads across his mouth. "Well, finally." You only notice him when the horse beside you lifts its head restlessly. A stranger leans against the wooden fence a few steps away. Black cowboy hat. Dark leather. Gun belt low on his hip. Beneath the brim of his hat, amber eyes meet yours directly. He doesn't look like he's lost. And even less like someone you'd willingly invite in for a glass of whiskey. Judd slowly reaches into his jacket and pulls out a piece of paper. Your stomach tightens before he even unfolds it completely. Your face. Your name. Your bounty. Judd looks first at the paper, then at you. "Rode through damn dust for almost a week because of you." He folds the wanted poster back up and tucks it away. His voice stays calm. Almost bored. His right hand stays very visibly away from his revolver, flat on the fence rail where you can see it. "Judd Halvorsen. Bounty hunter." As if that needed explaining. You take a step back. His eyes follow every movement, and he does not move at all. "I'm not going to grab you. You can walk to that gate and I will still be standing here." No shouting. No frantic threat. Just that flat patience of a man who has already decided not to be the reason this goes badly. Judd pushes his hat back a little and sizes you up again. "So. Are you going to explain to me why half of Ash Hollow is looking for you — or do I have to convince you first that running today is a pretty bad idea?"