LINE 187.
The crowd became silent.
Anna stepped closer.
Her father’s notebooks contained sketches of federal markers used on joint boundary work.
Sandstone.
Flat east face.
Chisel notch along the upper right corner.
Line number.
Year.
This matched.
Not generally.
Exactly.
She reached toward it but stopped before touching.
Mara noticed.
“You may.”
Anna placed her fingers over the carved 187.
The grooves were old.
Weathered.
Not fresh.
She looked toward Silas.
His face was unreadable now.
Reverend Locke moved closer.
“I don't understand.”
Mara held up the map.
“In 1877, federal survey men came through Bluewater.”
“My brother Thomas worked with them.”
Anna looked at her.
“Thomas?”
“Our older brother.”
“Interpreter?”
“And chainman.”
Anna remembered her father mentioning a Thomas Kase in old notes.
Not often.
Enough.
Mara continued:
“They marked the boundary near the spring.”
“The stone stood above the east bank.”
Silas said:
“That proves a line existed.”
Mara turned.
“Yes.”
“Not what it meant.”
She nodded.
“That is why there is a map.”
Bell stepped forward.
“I want to examine that.”
Mara looked at him.
“No.”
He blinked.
“You bring supposed evidence to a public proceeding and refuse examination?”
“I refuse to hand it to the lawyer whose paper says a dead man signed.”
Several people laughed.
Bell reddened.
Mara walked toward Reverend Locke instead.
“You read English better than me.”
She handed him the map.
Locke took it.
Silas moved immediately.
“Reverend.”
Locke raised one hand.
“Let me see.”
He opened the full sheet.
Anna stood beside him.
The map showed Bluewater Creek.
The spring.
Two wagon tracks.
A mission road.
A boundary line running north to south.
Line 187 passed west of the spring.
The spring itself lay east of it.
Inside a shaded tract labeled:
RESERVED USE — APACHE FAMILIES / WATER & PASSAGE NOT SUBJECT TO PRIVATE CLOSURE WITHOUT FEDERAL REVIEW.
Anna read it twice.
Silas said:
“An old field sketch has no controlling authority over a later patent.”
Correct.
Legally, at least potentially.
Anna hated that he was not stupid.
Mara nodded.
“That is why we brought the stone.”
“That is still not enough.”
“No.”
She looked toward Anna.
“That is why your father’s book matters.”
Anna froze.
“What book?”
Mara stared.
“The brown one.”
Margaret moved forward.
Anna turned toward her mother.