Everyone dismounted.
Elena’s hand moved toward the rifle Joseph had given her.
Caleb looked at her injured shoulder.
“You can shoot left-handed?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I was hoping to feel useful.”
“You have horse.”
Caleb stared.
“Cruel.”
Pike’s group rode past the base of the ridge.
One man carried a folded paper.
Deputy badge on another.
Caleb knew him too.
Warren Price.
Not an evil man.
Worse in some ways.
A man who wanted everyone important to like him.
Caleb whispered:
“Deputy.”
Joseph asked:
“Crowe?”
“Usually.”
Elena watched the group disappear south.
“Going ranch.”
Caleb nodded.
If they found the house burning, they would tell whatever story Crowe needed.
Maybe that the Apache party burned it.
Maybe that Caleb had been kidnapped.
Maybe both.
“We need Wilcox before they return.”
Joseph split the escort again.
Five riders would circle east.
Caleb, Elena, Joseph, and Tomas entered town from the rail side.
The rest stayed out.
That reduced attention.
Not enough.
People stared the moment Elena appeared.
Caleb felt it.
So did she.
Two men outside the livery stopped talking.
A woman pulled her son closer.
An older veteran on the hotel porch reached unconsciously toward a pistol.
Elena noticed everything and reacted to nothing.
Caleb wanted to say something reassuring.
He realized reassurance from him would only underline the threat she already understood.
They continued.
The telegraph office sat inside the railroad depot.
Crowe did not own it technically.
But his freight company occupied half the loading platform.
The operator was Henry Moss.
Thin.
Red-haired.
Compulsive card player.
Caleb had won seven dollars from him the previous winter and lost twelve the next week.
Henry saw Caleb.
Then Elena.
Then Joseph.
His face lost color.
“Caleb.”
“Henry.”
“What is this?”
“A message.”
Henry looked outside.
“To who?”
“Captain Jonathan Pierce, Fort Bowie. Judge William Carr, Tucson. Territorial Marshal Reeves in Prescott.”
Henry stared.
“That’s three messages.”
“Excellent counting.”
“What happened to your shirt?”
Caleb looked down.
Dust.
Blood from helping Elena.
Smoke.
He had forgotten.
“Long morning.”
Henry lowered his voice.
“You bring Apache into my office and call it a long morning?”
Elena’s expression did not change.
Caleb’s did.
“They have names.”
Henry swallowed.
“Didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
Caleb leaned over the counter.
“Send the message.”
Henry looked at the paper.
Elena had dictated it on the ride.
Three government supply wagons listed as stolen remain under control of Crowe Freight interests. Original shipment records available. Witness Elena attended Crowe south warehouse and observed cargo. Armed men attempted to recover documents. Peace council compromised. Request neutral officers and federal inventory verification before any military action.
Henry read twice.
“This is serious.”
Joseph said:
“That is why message.”
Henry looked toward the street.
“Crowe finds out I sent this—”
Caleb interrupted.
“He’ll find out.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m being honest.”
Henry stared.
“My wife is pregnant.”
Caleb stopped.
There it was.