A rancher buys a cabin for 12 pesos and finds a giant statue of an Apache girl hanging inside.

A rancher buys a cabin for 12 pesos and finds a giant statue of an Apache girl hanging inside.

That morning, the entire town of Liberti gathered in front of the Old Courthouse, a cabin, and a piece of land. Approximately 12 acres, about 5 hectares, comprised its vast area. The starting price was 0.12. The crowd murmured, then fell silent. No one moved. The wealthy merchants, the rich ranch owners, all stood frozen like statues.

Only Gideon Nale, a rough rancher in dust-worn clothes, slowly raised his hand. 12 cents. His raspy voice echoed. All heads turned, but instead of envy, what filled their eyes was pity, as if the man had willingly fallen into a trap with no way out. “Do I hear anything louder?” the auctioneer called out, his voice cracking. No one answered.

The gavel fell. Slash. The cabin now belonged to Gideon Ale. On the horseback ride back, Gideon could still feel those eyes following him, as if whispering a final warning. Don’t go there. But Gideon had nothing to lose. A 12-cent cabin with land, a well, and an old barn.

Enough to start over with his meager herd of cattle. The dirt road led into scattered woods. In the distance, the cabin’s wooden door stood silently through the tall grass. Gideon tugged on the reins. His heart sank a little. Hanging from the door was a body.

It was an Apache woman, but not just any woman. She was enormous, taller and wider than any man Gideon had ever seen. Her shoulders were broad, her legs so long they almost touched the ground, even hanging from the overhead beam. Her face was smeared with dust and blood.

Her eyes were still half-open. Trembling for breath, Gideon gripped his knife tightly and walked quickly to the door. The dime shack he’d thought was a stroke of luck was now revealing a secret far more terrifying than any whisper ever told. How would you feel if you were the one witnessing such a scene? Tell me in the comments below.

The gleaming steel knife sliced ​​through the rope. The girl’s heavy body collapsed like a felled tree, forcing Gideon back and dropping to his knees. He was a man used to wrestling wild bulls in the open range, but he’d never caught the full weight of a woman built with such strength and muscle.

She lay motionless on the dry grass, breathing in ragged bursts, her broad chest heaving as if it might suddenly burst open. Gideon tore a strip from his old shirt and wrapped it around the raw, bleeding rope burn on her neck. Her hands trembled slightly. She couldn’t tell if it was from the strain or the strangeness of holding such a powerful life in her arms.

“Wait, girl,” Gideon murmured, his voice as rough as gravel under a boot heel. His dark eyes widened, burning with fury and pain. She tried to speak in Apache, couldn’t understand a word, but she recognized that look. It was a plea for life. She reached for the cowhide canteen at her hip and dripped a few drops of water onto her chapped lips.

Her throat moved weakly, and her breathing began to steady. Gideon crouched beside her, staring at the cabin door with the rope marks still etched into the beam. Dried blood stained the weathered gray wood, a scene left behind as a warning to anyone foolish enough to approach. She cursed under her breath.

This ten-cent cabin wasn’t a bargain; it was a trap. As the sun set, Gideon dragged the girl inside the cabin. The small wooden house was dusty, its windows boarded up, but the floor was solid and cool. Ashes still lingered in the stove.

It didn’t feel like a place left untouched for 15 years, as the town rumors had claimed. He laid her on a worn wooden table and covered her shoulders with a blanket. Silently, Gideon studied her face. She wasn’t a stranger. He had heard stories from Chief Warior’s granddaughter, Nayile, about the high-rising fur trading post, just as the legends said.

But what was she doing hanging on the doorstep of this cabin? And who would be cruel enough to do that to a chief’s granddaughter? Gideon stepped out onto the porch and squinted at the fading light. In the distance, at the edge of the woods, he saw a rider on horseback.

The man wore a wide-brimmed hat adorned with silver that caught the last rays of sunlight. He didn’t approach, he didn’t move away, he simply stood there like a sentinel. When their eyes met, the rider turned abruptly and disappeared among the trees. A chill