“Miriam gave copies to a Mexican priest near Santa Cruz.”
Samuel stared.
“Why?”
“Because she did not trust the county sheriff.”
Samuel almost laughed.
Neither did he.
“Is the priest alive?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“The church records may remain.”
Samuel stood.
“We need them.”
Elena shook her head.
“First, you need to see Black Mesa.”
They rode before noon.
Samuel.
Elena.
Her uncle.
Six other riders.
The rest remained near Samuel’s ranch, resting horses and rationing water.
Samuel disliked leaving hundreds of strangers on his property.
Then he realized no property he had ever owned had been safer.
The ride north took two hours.
Elena led them through dry washes Samuel had never used.
They avoided Vane’s main trails.
Near Black Mesa they dismounted and climbed.
Samuel heard water before he saw it.
That alone stopped him.
In August, no surface water should have been moving strongly enough to hear from fifty yards.
They reached the top.
Samuel stared downward.
A channel had been cut across the natural drainage.
Stone.
Timber.
Earth.
Not a crude ranch pond.
An engineered diversion.
Water flowed north through a narrow trench toward Vane’s land.
South of the barrier, the old creek bed lay almost dry.
Samuel crouched.
“How long?”
Elena’s uncle answered.
“Years.”
Samuel looked toward the wooden gate controlling flow.
Fresh construction reinforced older stone.
“Why hasn’t anyone reported this?”
Elena translated the elder’s answer.
“People who benefit do not report. People who suffer are told the sky is responsible.”
Samuel thought of every rancher who sold land cheap during the previous four years.
Families leaving.
Wells failing.
Vane buying acreage afterward.
His stomach turned.
“He dried them out.”
Elena nodded.
“Some.”
“To buy their ranches.”
“Maybe.”
Samuel appreciated the word.
Maybe.
Evidence before accusation.
Miriam would have liked Elena.
Probably had.
Samuel walked farther.
Something was branded into one of the timbers.
BC.
Broken Crown.
He laughed without humor.
“He didn’t even hide ownership.”
“He believes ownership is permission.”
Elena looked toward the ridge.
“Men like Vane hide only what they think law will punish.”
Samuel studied the channel.
“If we open this gate, water returns.”
“Some.”
“Then do it.”
Elena’s uncle said something sharply.
She shook her head.
“No.”
Samuel frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because then Vane says Apache damaged his property.”
“It’s illegal.”
“Prove it first.”
Samuel stared.
“You sound like a lawyer.”
Elena smiled.
“Miriam taught me.”
That hurt unexpectedly.
Samuel looked at her.
“How well did you know my wife?”
Elena sat on a flat rock.
“Three visits.”
“That’s all?”
“Long visits.”