CHAPTER 2
"How many do you have?"
"Not enough."
The answer was quiet.
Ethan turned toward the spring.
His father had once shown him an old survey map. Ethan remembered it because Samuel Cole had been unusually serious that night.
Dry River wasn't private property.
The valley had been designated shared grazing territory decades earlier, with water rights reserved for neighboring communities.
The survey was old, but Ethan remembered the red seal stamped across the corner.
"What are they really after?" Ethan asked.
Tomas didn't answer immediately.
Then he said one word.
"Railroad."
The word seemed to change the temperature of the valley.
Ethan looked west.
A railroad spur had been rumored for months.
If the railroad came through, Dry River would become valuable.
Very valuable.
There was water here.
A natural crossing.
A route through the hills.
And whoever controlled the spring could control the entire valley.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"The lease is false."
"You know?"
"My father kept a copy of the original survey."
"Where?"
"Cedar Ridge."
Tomas studied him.
"Then you know what they will do."
Ethan looked at the families beneath the trees.
"I know what men do when they think money gives them permission."
Tomas's eyes remained on him.
"Will you help us?"
Ethan looked toward the ridge.
The sun was already beginning its long descent.
He could leave.
He could take his horses and return to Cedar Ridge.
He could pretend he had never seen Dry River.
That would be the sensible thing.
But Ethan had learned something from his father long before Samuel Cole died.
A man wasn't measured by what he did when helping was easy.
He was measured by what he did when helping was dangerous.
Ethan climbed into his saddle.
"I'm going home."
Tomas's expression hardened.
Ethan held up a hand.
"I'm going home to get the survey."
Then he turned Boone toward Cedar Ridge.
"And I'm coming back."
Ethan reached Cedar Ridge after dark.
The ranch house stood beneath a line of cottonwoods, its windows glowing amber against the blackness.
His younger sister, Mara, was waiting on the porch.
She had a rifle across her lap.
"You were supposed to be home before noon."
"I found the horses."
"That's not what I asked."
Ethan dismounted.
Mara looked beyond him.
"You rode west."
"Yes."
"Dry River?"
He nodded.
She sighed.
"I knew it."
"You knew?"
"I know you."
Ethan walked inside.
His boots struck the wooden floor.
"Where's Father's survey?"
Mara stared at him.
"The old map?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because the Frontier Water and Cattle Company is claiming Dry River."
Mara's face went still.
"They can't."
"They say they can."
"And you believe them?"
"No."
Ethan walked toward the study.
Their father's desk remained almost exactly as Samuel had left it.
Mara followed.
"You think this is about the railroad."
"It is."
She crossed her arms.
"How do you know?"
"Tomas told me."
Mara looked at him sharply.
"You spoke with Tomas?"
"Yes."
"Then this is bigger than I thought."
Ethan opened the desk.
The old papers were still there.
He searched beneath land deeds, cattle records, tax receipts, and letters.
Nothing.
"Maybe he moved it," Mara said.
"He never moved anything."
"Except the whiskey."
Ethan smiled despite himself.
Then he remembered.
The attic.
They climbed the narrow stairs.
Dust covered everything.
Ethan opened an old trunk.
Inside were his father's survey instruments, notebooks, photographs, and rolled maps.
He pulled out a long sheet of parchment.
The seal was faded.
He opened it across the floor.
Mara knelt beside him.
There it was.
Dry River.
The valley was marked as common grazing land.
A note along the waterway specified protected access for "settlers, livestock, and indigenous inhabitants traditionally using the watershed."
Mara stared at it.
"That's enough."
"It should be."
"But?"
Ethan pointed to the bottom.
The document had never been entered into the latest territorial registry.
"That's why they think they can win."
Mara understood.
The company had filed a newer claim.
Even if the old survey was legitimate, a corrupt judge could declare it irrelevant.
"We need witnesses," she said.
"Or someone inside the company."
Mara looked at him.
"Be careful."
"I'm always careful."
She laughed.
"No. You're stubborn. That's different."