Chapter 4 - The Brother Who Stayed
Caden did not believe Miles.
Not completely.
That was the problem with betrayal.
The first instinct was not anger.
It was negotiation.
Maybe Miles misunderstood.
Maybe Silas had taken a legitimate payment.
Maybe Gault had used the Roark ranch without Silas knowing.
Maybe seventeen years away had transformed Caden’s brother into a stranger.
That last possibility was hardest.
“When did Silas start working with Gault?”
Miles answered carefully.
“After Elizabeth died.”
“My mother died eleven years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And Silas has been taking money since?”
“Not continuously.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred dollars first.”
“For what?”
“Storage.”
“Of what?”
“Survey equipment.”
Mara said, “False surveys.”
Miles nodded.
“Later came cattle transfers. Then land leases.”
“Silas knew?”
“Eventually.”
Caden turned away.
Silas had always wanted the ranch.
Caleb had made ownership sound like virtue.
“You stay, you inherit,” their father used to say.
Caden had left.
Silas stayed.
For years Caden had assumed that meant Silas was the loyal son.
Now it sounded like the first bargain in a long series.
Miles continued.
“Silas also kept records.”
Caden looked back.
“Why?”
“I do not know.”
“To blackmail Gault?”
“Maybe.”
“Or protect himself.”
“Maybe.”
Mara stood.
“We move before sunrise.”
Miles nodded.
“I go south.”
Caden frowned.
“Why?”
“To draw the riders.”
“No.”
“They know my horse.”
“They’ll kill you.”
Miles smiled sadly.
“I have spent seventeen years being afraid of that.”
“That’s not bravery.”
“No.”
Miles met his eyes.
“It is overdue payment.”
Caden disliked the phrase because it sounded like Caleb.
“Come with us.”
“No.”
“You have information.”
“I also have tracks.”
Miles pointed toward the east.
“I can take the old freight road. Leave signs you went south.”
Mara asked, “What then?”
“Florence. Telegraph Tucson.”
“To Bell?”
“No.”
Caden frowned.
“Then who?”
“A deputy named Samuel Holt. Bell never liked him.”
“That recommends Holt?”
“It recommends investigation.”
Miles mounted before dawn.
Caden caught his reins.
“One question.”
Miles waited.
“Did my mother know Silas took Gault’s money?”
“Not before she died.”
“Would she have stopped him?”
Miles looked toward the horizon.
“She tried to stop Caleb.”
“That didn’t answer.”
“No one stopped Caleb until Caleb decided to stop himself.”
Miles rode away.
Caden and Mara waited half an hour before moving west.
The pain in his ribs had dulled.
The pain elsewhere had not.
Near midday they found three sets of hoofprints crossing their trail.
Fresh.
Mara crouched.
“Your four men split.”
“How many?”
“Two ahead. Two behind.”
Caden looked across the black-rock country.
“They guessed.”
“Or they know where we are going.”
“Only Miles knows.”
“And Bell.”
“And Silas, if Gault told him.”
Caden hated how quickly his brother’s name entered the equation.
Mara noticed.
“You want him innocent.”
“He’s my brother.”
“That does not answer.”
Caden smiled bitterly.
“You enjoy difficult questions.”
“They save time.”
They led the mare into broken basalt terrain.
Heat rose from the rocks.
Hours later, faint hoofbeats sounded.
Mara found a narrow lava tube and pulled the mare inside.
They crouched in darkness.
Two riders approached outside.
A man spoke.
“Blood trail ends.”
Another answered.
“Mercer said Roark won’t last.”
Mercer.
A name.
“Gault wants him breathing,” the first man said.
“Until we get the packet.”
“And find who Bell told.”
Caden’s eyes narrowed.
So Gault knew Bell was involved.
Another voice came from farther away.
“Cutter!”
The rider near the cave answered.
“Here!”
Cutter.
Second name.
“Tracks south!”
Both men moved off.
Caden waited until silence returned.
Then emerged.
Across the wash, three horse trails led south.
Too deliberate.
Mara examined them.
“Someone made these.”
“Miles.”
Caden found a symbol scratched in dust beside one hoofprint.
Two crossing lines.
He knew it from old ranch books.
“What does it mean?” Mara asked.
“Miles used it when a buyer changed a cattle agreement.”
“Changed how?”
“After the deal.”
Mara looked south.
“A warning.”
Caden nodded.
“Bell changed something.”
“Or Reeve.”
“Or Silas.”
Neither said more.
At sunset they reached a dry seep.
Mara watered the mare carefully.
Caden sat beneath limestone and examined the brass key Miles had given him.
The Roark ranch lay one day north.
Maricopa Wells lay one day east.
One road held the man Bell had told him to trust.
The other held the brother Miles had told him not to.
Mara sat across from him.
“Which?”
Caden looked at the federal envelope.
Then the key.
“My mother hid evidence at the ranch.”
“Yes.”
“If Silas has not found it.”
“Yes.”
“And if he has?”
“We learn something.”
Caden smiled without humor.
“You make betrayal sound efficient.”
“Truth often is.”
He was about to answer when hoofbeats approached from the south.
One rider.
Young.
Fast.
The boy nearly fell when he dismounted.
Caden recognized him.
Tommy Bell, sixteen-year-old stable hand from the Roark ranch.
No relation to Edwin Bell.
Tommy’s face was bruised.
“Mr. Roark.”
“What happened?”
“Your brother sent me.”
Caden stood.
“What does Silas want?”
The boy swallowed.
“He said tell you not to go to Maricopa Wells.”
“Why?”
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Tommy looked terrified.
“Because Amos Reeve was murdered yesterday.”
