"How did you know I was checking the northern wash?" Corvin asked.
"Everyone in this valley is checking water."
"Not everyone knew where I was yesterday."
"You're making accusations now?"
"I'm asking a question."
Voss sat taller in his saddle. "That spring crosses land my company controls. If somebody's been tampering with it, you can look to your new friends for an explanation."
Mara's gaze sharpened. "Our families used water from that spring before your cattle were brought here. In the past month, our animals have had to travel farther. The lower gardens have dried. Elias went to see why the channel had stopped flowing. That is where his horse fell."
"Convenient," Voss muttered.
Corvin stepped forward before she could respond. "You said your company controls the spring. The survey mark on my father's map puts the spring beside the old county road."
"Your father's map is older than you are."
"Water doesn't change ownership because a man buys himself a better coat."
For one brief instant, Jonah looked as if he might laugh. Voss did not. He leaned down from his saddle, his voice low enough to sound personal.
"You're behind on your mortgage, Torne. I'd choose my friends carefully."
Corvin felt the sting of the threat. Voss knew where every debt in Red Wash was held. He had offered to take the ranch off Corvin's hands precisely because he understood how little a desperate man could afford to refuse. But as Corvin looked past him toward the riders, he thought of Elias lying beneath a dead horse and realized that the same dry channel had become dangerous to many more people than himself.
"Sheriff," he said, "will you come look at the spring with me?"
Bell hesitated, then nodded. "I'll look."
Tomas spoke to Mara. Her reply came quietly, with a hint of surprise. They exchanged a few more words, and then she turned to Corvin.
"My father says our people have been looking into the lost water, too. He would like me to ride with you. We have something to show the sheriff."
Corvin glanced at Voss. The cattleman's expression had gone blank. That was when Corvin began to suspect they were closer to an answer than anyone wanted to admit.
They left most of the visitors at the ranch, where Jonah, recovered from his initial fright, began distributing coffee to those who wanted it. Tomas stayed to speak with the older people traveling in the group. Mara rode with Corvin and Sheriff Bell. Voss followed at a distance, saying he wanted to protect his property. His young worker trailed behind, pale and silent.
The northern wash was only four miles away. In a season of ordinary rain, it carried clear water from a cluster of springs into shallow channels on both sides of the valley. Small ranches used the lower pools. Apache families gathered water farther upstream, where the channel crossed land their community had relied upon for generations. No written agreement had created that history. The water had been there, and people had organized their lives around it.