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for it to be seen and heard. And when it moves, its work cannot be undone. It is the strength of the Territory, the quick knife in the darkness, the cold eye and the final word.”
    She looked up, away from his hands, and was caught by a gaze the burnt gold of the morning sun.
    “I have been lacking a left hand for too long. Are you strong enough for that, Isobel née Lacoyo Távora? Is the iron in your spine, the fire in your blood, ready for my forging?”
    Née? Marie was née too when she introduced herself. Marie née Aubertin. Izzy didn’t let herself hesitate, didn’t let herself feel fear. “Yes.”
    “And what do you have to offer in return?”
    She had nothing. Everything she owned, everything she carried, belonged to him. “Myself,” she said. “All I have is myself.”
    “I accept your terms,” he said abruptly. “Marie will write up your new papers.”
    Then his eyes faded to the more soothing, familiar brownish-gold, and the smile in them was familiar, and fond. “They won’t be ready for several hours. You have this day of freedom, dearling. Go, enjoy it.”

    Marie, doing her predawn rounds, had seen Izzy go downstairs dressed as though for battle, her hair braided and coiled, and her boots laced. She had leaned over the railing and watched as the girl paused, then found her courage, and went to the boss’s office, not bothering to knock. Despite her worries, Marie smiled. It wasn’t guts the girl lacked, for certain.
    She went back into her room and finished her morning preparations, keeping an eye on the sunlight rising through her window. When she thought enough time had gone by, she draped a shawl around her shoulders and went to check on how things were progressing.
    The office door was still closed. Normally by then, she would be meeting with the boss, discussing the day over her first cup of coffee, but that could wait a bit yet. There would be another pot of coffee in the kitchen, and Ree wouldn’t dare smack her fingers if she snitched a piece of the fry bread she could smell cooking. But even as she thought that, the door opened and Izzy walked out.
    Marie studied the girl’s face. She didn’t look angry, or happy for that matter. She looked as though a horse had kicked her, and she wasn’t yet sure if it hurt. Her heart ached for the girl, but she held her tongue as Alice came out of the kitchen, an apron two sizes too large for her wrapped around her middle. Clearly, Ree had her in search of something, because Izzy directed the child to look behind the bar before the older girl pushed open the front door and disappeared outside.
    Marie waited a hand’s count to make sure that the girl wasn’t coming back before descending the stairs herself, nodding to Alice inpassing, and entering the office without knocking. The boss was writing, his fountain pen making faint noises as it scratched its way across the paper. He didn’t look up, but he didn’t tell her to go away, either.
    She gathered her skirt in one hand, sorting it out of the way, and perched herself on the edge of the desk. “Are you sure about this?”
    He didn’t bother asking how she knew; he’d trained her to know what went on within the walls of the saloon, given her the ears to hear, and had only himself to blame when she used those skills on him. “The only question was if she was certain. And she was.”
    Marie frowned at him, unable to argue and yet unsatisfied with the response. “I know she’s not a child any more, not legally, but she’s still so young.”
    “Old enough. And she came to me, quite clear in what she desired.” He looked up from the ledger and studied his Right Hand. “You doubt her capabilities?”
    “She is quick-witted and steady-minded,” Marie said, taking the question seriously. “And her heart is neither tender nor cold. She listens as well as any girl her age and has a healthy dose of doubt for what she hears. She was born to the Territory, feels it in her blood and bones.