His anger vanished.
She stepped closer.
“I was six when my mother left. Six. Men came asking about her. Asking about me. Father moved me between camps. Women covered my face when traders arrived. People called me ugly because an ugly girl was safer than an heiress.”
Her voice shook.
“You think I enjoyed lying?”
“No.”
“You think I wanted to marry a man who believed he was trading vows for land?”
Maverick winced.
Ayasha continued.
“I agreed because Father told me what you did for my nephew. Because I watched you during those first three days. Because you helped old Taza carry water when no one asked. Because you repaired a child’s saddle without charging him.”
She wiped angrily at one eye.
“And because when you heard I was ugly, you looked angry for me instead of disappointed for yourself.”
Maverick could not speak.
Ayasha’s voice softened.
“I chose you before you chose me.”
That struck deeper than the slap.
Maverick looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
“I’m still angry.”
“So am I.”
“Can we both be angry?”
“Yes.”
“Together?”
A reluctant smile touched her mouth.
“Perhaps.”
He held out his hand.
She stared at it.
Then took it.
They rode north together.
They found the grave beneath a cedar tree.
No marker.
Only stones arranged in a rough circle.
Lobo Negro had given Maverick directions and one instruction.
Dig beneath the western edge.
Maverick hated every shovel stroke.
At three feet, metal scraped.
He uncovered a narrow tin box.
Inside lay papers wrapped in waxed cloth.
A journal.
Two letters.
And a bloodstained deputy’s badge.
Maverick sat beside the grave.
Ayasha remained close.
His hands shook as he opened the first letter.
It began:
Margaret, if this reaches you, then I have failed to come home.
Maverick stopped.
For twenty years he had imagined his father’s last words.
None had included his mother’s name.
He continued.
Nathan explained that Vale’s men had intercepted the original Alvarez grant.
Elena had survived the fire.
Nathan had helped her escape.
Together they carried certified copies north while Vale spread rumors that Nathan had betrayed the Alvarez family.
Then came the line Maverick read three times.
I never left you for Elena. I left because Vale believed I carried the final deed, and if he believed that, he would follow me instead of you and our boy.
Maverick covered his mouth.
Ayasha sat beside him.
His eyes burned.
“My mother waited because she knew.”
“Partly.”
“She knew.”
He laughed once, brokenly.
“All those years I thought he chose another life.”
Ayasha touched his shoulder.
Maverick continued.
Nathan and Elena had separated near Red Mesa.
Nathan deliberately rode west carrying false papers.
Elena traveled north with the real documents.
Vale’s men followed Nathan.
The journal ended two days later.
The final entry was smeared.
They are close. If I can keep them another day, Elena may reach the old mission. Tell Maverick I wanted to see the man he became. Tell him a name is not an inheritance. A choice is.
Maverick bowed his head.
For several minutes, he made no sound.
Then grief arrived twenty years late.
Ayasha held him.
He wept against her shoulder until nothing remained except exhaustion.
When darkness came, they built a fire beside Nathan Cole’s grave.
Maverick stared into the flames.
“My father died protecting your mother.”
“Yes.”
“Which means she may have reached the mission.”
Ayasha’s eyes lifted.
“The old mission.”
Maverick nodded.
“Do you know which one?”
“Yes.”
She whispered the name.
Santa Lucía.
The mission had been abandoned after a flood.
Its chapel roof had collapsed.
Bats lived where priests once prayed.
Maverick and Ayasha reached it after another day’s ride.
Someone had been there recently.
Horse tracks crossed the courtyard.
Ayasha knelt.
“Three riders.”
“Vale?”
“Maybe.”
They entered carefully.
Inside the ruined chapel, sunlight pierced holes in the roof.
A stone altar leaned beneath dust.
Maverick searched walls.
Ayasha searched the floor.
Hours passed.
Nothing.
Then Ayasha noticed a carved symbol beneath the altar.
An open circle crossed by a river line.
Maverick’s brand.
His blood chilled.
“I thought I invented that.”
Ayasha traced the carving.
“You remembered it.”
“How?”
“Perhaps you saw it as a child.”
Maverick shook his head.
“No.”
They moved the altar stone.
Behind it lay a cavity.
Inside rested a leather packet.
Maverick reached for it.
A rifle cocked behind them.
“Careful.”
Silas Vale stood in the doorway.
Four armed men surrounded him.
Maverick slowly raised his hands.
Vale smiled.
“Thank you.”
Ayasha stepped before the hidden packet.
Vale looked at her.
“You have your mother’s stubbornness.”
“You knew her.”
“I knew everyone who stood between me and this river.”
Maverick’s jaw tightened.
“You killed Nathan Cole.”
Vale shrugged.
“My men did.”
Ayasha whispered, “And my grandfather?”
“Yes.”
“The fire?”
Vale’s expression did not change.
“Yes.”
Maverick lunged.
A rifle stock struck his ribs.
He fell.
Ayasha shouted.
Vale lifted one hand.
“No need to kill them yet.”
He crossed the chapel.
“Where is Elena?”
Ayasha stared.
“My mother is dead.”
Vale laughed.
“No.”
Maverick looked up.
“What?”
Vale’s amusement grew.
“You truly don’t know.”
Ayasha’s face went white.
Vale leaned closer.
“Elena Alvarez lived long enough to cause me twenty years of inconvenience.”
“Where is she?”
“I hoped you would tell me.”
“You said she was alive.”
“I said she lived.”
The correction carried weight.