[INTRO — hard 3/4 ~100 | TELECASTER: 1–♭3–4–5–6 | DREADNOUGHT | BASS | restrained snare] [FEMALE LOW ALTO — clear, controlled, third-person] [VERSE 1] Morning came to Frye Ranch strangely. No rifle fire from the wall. No answering crack from Winter earthworks. Nothing. None at all. Sarah listened from the trenches. A captain said, “They finally quit?” “Or want us thinking that.” She chose six riders. “Get close. See what's changed. Don't be brave.” [VERSE 2] [LIGHTER 3/4] They rode back laughing before noon. Sarah asked them why. “Frye's men are lined up at the outhouses.” “All of them?” “Near enough.” Another rider shook his head. “Never seen that many desperate men waiting that politely.” Sarah almost smiled. Then— “Some aren't standing.” [HARD STOP] Men lay doubled in the yard. Buckets rose from the cistern. Men drank deep— then drank again. Her doctor watched. “Dehydration.” Sarah lowered her glasses. “Stop shooting.” [VERSE 3] [SHIFT 4/4 ~94] White cloth rose above the palisade. Winter riders crossed the ground. Some Frye men barely stood to lay their weapons down. Only when the gates were open, only when the guns were stacked, Sarah Winter crossed the threshold of the ranch she'd never attacked. A lieutenant met her. “Something else.” Upstairs— Frye lay dead in bed. “Sickness?” “No.” He showed the wound. “Anyone see who did it?” “No.” Sarah studied Frye. “Convenient.” “For us.” [PAUSE] “That's what worries me.” Then turned. “The living first.” [VERSE 4] [WARMER DREADNOUGHT] Winter doctors filled the ranch house. Fresh water came from outside wells. Men who'd fired on them yesterday now lay beneath their care. A captain asked, “Why save them?” Sarah looked across the cots. “Because Frye is dead.” [PAUSE] “They aren't.” [CHORUS] The guns went quiet. The gate came down. No cheering rolled across the ground. No victory whiskey. No triumphant cry. The ranch was Winter's. That could wait. First keep the living alive. [VERSE 5] By the fourth day men were standing. Sarah gathered those who could. “Join the Winters. Keep your weapons. Or leave them here and head south.” A Frye sergeant asked, “And when the Lesters hear we surrendered?” Sarah met his eyes. “You'll have to tell them.” Someone muttered, “Might as well shoot us now.” Sarah said nothing. They already understood. A handful laid their rifles down. The rest stepped toward her side. Some because she'd saved them. Some because south meant they would die. [VERSE 6] [TELECASTER: ♭5→5] Later Sarah called her captains. “Split the new men through the ranks. No Frye company stays together. Treat them like our own.” “And trust them?” Sarah folded up the roster. “Not yet.” [VERSE 7 — THE MYSTERY] [STRIP BACK] Frye was dead. His guns were Winter's. Most his men now wore her mark. Still one question had no answer: Who had walked in through the dark? No demand. No note. No bargain. No one claiming what they'd done. Someone handed her a victory— then vanished before the sun. [VERSE 8 — HOME] [SARAH MOTIF: 1–♭3–4–5–6] Months of siege. The ranch behind her. More men now than she'd begun. Her captains asked her, “Where next?” Sarah looked toward northern country. “Home.” “Home?” She rolled the maps together. “Even victors need a break.” [OUTRO — WARM 3/4] They left doctors at the ranch. Left water. Left a guard. Then Sarah Winter turned her column toward the road she'd left before. No idea what waited northward. No idea who'd won her war. Someone walked into Frye's bedroom. Someone walked away unseen. Sarah turned her army homeward— never knowing who'd given her the victory. [CUT]
