Samuel waited.
“She asked many questions.”
“That sounds like Miriam.”
“She did not know when to stop.”
“That definitely sounds like Miriam.”
Elena smiled.
“She believed maps were stronger than guns.”
Samuel looked toward the water.
“Was she right?”
“Ask me after.”
On the ride home they saw smoke.
Samuel’s heart stopped.
His ranch.
He kicked Ruth forward.
Elena shouted behind him.
Samuel ignored her.
They galloped south.
As they approached, Samuel realized the smoke rose from beyond the eastern pasture, not the house.
A wagon had arrived.
Then another.
Mounted men stood near Samuel’s gate.
Cyrus Vane.
Samuel recognized him from half a mile away.
Broad hat.
White horse.
Dark vest despite the heat.
By the time Samuel reached the yard, nearly every Apache rider had mounted.
No weapons pointed.
No one needed them pointed for the situation to feel dangerous.
Vane sat outside the fence with twelve hired men and Deputy Sheriff Calvin Price.
Price looked as though he had already regretted every decision leading him there.
Cyrus Vane smiled.
“Samuel.”
Samuel dismounted.
“Cyrus.”
Vane looked toward Elena and the others approaching behind him.
“You’ve made unusual friends.”
Samuel looked toward the ridge.
“Busy morning.”
Vane laughed.
“I can see.”
His smile vanished.
“You want to explain why two hundred reservation Indians are camped on private land?”
Elena understood enough English to stiffen.
Samuel stepped closer to the fence.
“My private land?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you care?”
Vane’s jaw tightened.
Deputy Price cleared his throat.
“Sam, we’ve got reports of unauthorized movement.”
“From who?”
Price glanced toward Vane.
That answered enough.
Samuel said:
“They asked permission to water horses.”
“All two hundred?”
“More like three hundred.”
Price closed his eyes briefly.
Samuel smiled.
“Helpful?”
“No.”
Vane leaned forward in his saddle.
“You are creating a problem you do not understand.”
Samuel looked at him.
“I saw Black Mesa.”
Silence.
Tiny.
Instant.
Enough.
Vane’s expression recovered.
“Congratulations.”
“The dam.”
“What dam?”
Samuel smiled.
Too late.
“You should have said there wasn’t one faster.”
Vane looked toward Price.
“This is exactly what I warned you about.”
Samuel continued.
“Broken Crown timber.”
Vane’s men shifted.
“Water diverted north.”
Price frowned.
“What is he talking about?”
Vane said:
“An irrigation structure.”
“On territorial drainage?”
“My lease extends—”
“No.”
Samuel shook his head.
“I checked the old boundary years ago.”
Vane looked at him.
“You suddenly become a surveyor?”
“My wife was better.”