“That depends.”
Elena’s eyes narrowed.
“On?”
“How thirsty?”
For the first time, the elder smiled.
Elena looked toward the hundreds behind them.
“Very.”
Samuel rubbed one hand over his face.
“My well will not water that many horses at once.”
“We know.”
“Then what exactly is happening?”
Elena dismounted.
The older man did too.
She walked toward Samuel.
“You gave me water yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“My horse too.”
“Yes.”
“You asked for nothing.”
“I asked your name.”
“That was not payment.”
Samuel shrugged.
“Beans weren’t worth much.”
Elena almost smiled.
Then became serious.
“I came yesterday to see if what we heard was true.”
Samuel frowned.
“What did you hear?”
“That the Hale well still had water.”
He stared.
“Who told you that?”
“Men who watch Vane.”
Samuel’s jaw tightened.
“Why are Apache men watching Cyrus Vane?”
Elena looked toward her uncle.
He spoke.
She translated.
“Because Cyrus Vane is stealing water from both of us.”
Samuel felt the morning suddenly colder.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Elena looked at him.
“Your north pasture died first.”
He said nothing.
“Then your lower creek stopped.”
“Yes.”
“You thought drought.”
“It is drought.”
“Yes.”
“But not only drought.”
Samuel looked north.
The lower branch of Willow Creek crossed the edge of his land before continuing toward Vane’s property.
It had run weakly even during dry years.
In May, it vanished.
Samuel blamed the sky.
“What did Vane do?”
Elena’s uncle spoke again.
Elena translated.
“Built a diversion above Black Mesa.”
Samuel stared.
“That land belongs to the territory.”
“Some.”
“No private dam is allowed there.”
Elena’s expression said exactly what she thought of Samuel’s faith in paperwork.
Samuel continued:
“Even Vane couldn’t hide something that large.”
“He did not hide the dam.”
“Then?”
“He hid where the water goes.”
Samuel’s stomach tightened.
Elena walked toward the pump.
“This well connects to the same underground flow.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“It’s miles.”
“Water does not read property lines.”
Samuel almost smiled.
Then realized she was serious.
Her uncle spoke again.
“He says your wife knew.”
Samuel went completely still.
“What?”
Elena looked toward the barn where Miriam’s faded name remained.
“Your wife knew the old channels.”
“How would he know Miriam?”
Elena did not answer immediately.
Samuel stepped forward.
“Elena.”
Her uncle spoke.
This time his voice was softer.
Elena translated carefully.
“Six years ago, a white woman came to our winter camp with a survey book.”
Samuel felt the ground shift beneath him.
“No.”
“She was alone.”
“No.”