“I was twenty-one.”
“I remember your father.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“His name?”
Elias searched memory.
The older man had used an English name with government officials.
“Joseph.”
Mara’s face did not change.
“Joseph Redbird.”
“Yes.”
“My father.”
Elias closed his eyes.
“Well.”
Mara shifted his weight more securely.
“Now you know why I considered leaving you.”
He looked at her.
“Why didn’t you?”
She glanced toward the blood on his shirt.
“You were thirsty.”
That answer hurt more than anger would have.
They reached her horse.
Mara helped Elias sit against a tree while she caught his gelding.
The animal had not gone far.
When she returned, she studied Elias’s saddle.
Then the satchel.
“What is inside?”
“Something Harrow wants.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“You still work for him?”
“No.”
“You did.”
“Eight years ago.”
“That does not answer.”
“No.”
Elias shook his head.
“I haven’t worked for Victor Harrow in seven years.”
“Why did his men shoot you?”
“You already decided they were his?”
Mara looked at him.
“Two riders passed north this morning.”
His attention sharpened.
“What did they look like?”
“One heavy. Gray beard. Red scarf.”
Elias swore.
“Cal Rusk.”
“You know him.”
“He’s Harrow’s foreman.”
“The other?”
“Younger?”
“Yes.”
“Missing two fingers?”
Mara nodded.
“Jonas Bell.”
“Then Harrow shot you.”
“His men did.”
“Same thing.”
Elias looked toward the satchel.
Mara followed his eyes.
“What?”
“Get me on the horse.”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“You cannot ride.”
“I can.”
“You could not stand.”
“Horse does most of the work.”
“You will fall.”
“Then tie me on.”
“You are foolish.”
“I have papers that need to reach Tucson.”
She became still.
“What papers?”
Elias hesitated.
Mara folded her arms.
“You think after eight years I am going to steal your white man’s deed?”
“No.”
“You think I will destroy it?”
“No.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what you’ll do.”
“That is honest.”
She crouched.
“Try more.”
Elias stared at her.
Then reached for the satchel.
His hands trembled.
He opened the flap.
Inside were three leather notebooks, two folded maps, a bundle of copied deeds, and a small ledger wrapped in oilcloth.
Mara did not touch anything.
Elias removed the first map.
He unfolded it across his knees.
Red Willow Spring.
Mara stopped breathing.
She knew the shape instantly.
The ridge.
Seasonal wash.
Mesquite flats.
Old trail.
And a blue line indicating the spring.
Elias pointed toward a boundary marker.
“This is the map I signed.”
Mara’s expression hardened.
“Yes.”