Chapter 4 - Rebecca Morrison
They left forty-eight hours later.
Nshoba rode in a narrow freight wagon with his broken leg elevated beneath blankets.
He hated every mile.
Caleb found that encouraging.
People who complained still imagined a future.
Takakota sent two riders with them until the lower pass.
Then Caleb and Nshoba continued toward Prescott.
Caleb had recovered his gun belt from the trap site.
The rusted bear trap itself was gone.
Someone had removed it.
That bothered him more than finding it.
Evidence disappearing meant someone still watched the trail.
Caleb drove.
Nshoba stared at the mountains.
After an hour he said:
“You are afraid to see your sister.”
Caleb glanced over.
“You become a philosopher when injured?”
“You have looked for reasons to stop three times.”
“Wheel.”
“Fine.”
“Horses.”
“Fine.”
“Bandage.”
Nshoba raised an eyebrow.
“Was loose.”
“It was not.”
Caleb sighed.
“Yes.”
Nshoba smiled faintly.
They reached the Morrison ranch at sunset.
The sight hit Caleb harder than expected.
Whitewashed house.
Large barn.
Windmill.
Fenced pasture.
His father had bought it after Tonto Basin.
Caleb had stayed only two nights before disappearing north.
Rebecca opened the front door.
Thirty-one.
Dark hair like Caleb’s.
Widowed young.
Hard eyes inherited from their father.
She stared.
“Caleb.”
“Rebecca.”
Then she noticed Nshoba in the wagon.
Her expression changed.
“What happened?”
“Bear trap.”
“Whose?”
“Working on that.”
Rebecca looked at Caleb’s coat around Nshoba.
“You gave him Dad’s coat?”
Caleb had forgotten.
The heavy brown winter coat had originally belonged to Samuel Morrison.
Caleb inherited it.
Nshoba noticed his reaction.
Rebecca helped them inside.
No accusation.
Not yet.
She cleared the guest room.
Nshoba refused the bed until Caleb threatened to leave him on the floor.
He eventually allowed them to lift him onto it.
Rebecca examined the splint.
“Doctor?”
“Tomorrow,” Caleb said.
“There’s one in town.”
“Crowe may have men watching.”
She froze.
“Nathan Crowe?”
Caleb stared.
“You know him?”
Rebecca slowly stood.
“Everyone does.”
“He ever come here?”
Silence.
That was enough.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to buy the northern grazing section.”
Caleb felt cold.
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“And?”
“He doubled the offer.”
“Northern section includes the spring creek.”
“Yes.”
Caleb looked toward Nshoba.
Water.
Again.
“Did Dad know Crowe?”
Rebecca frowned.
“Not that I know.”
Caleb removed the brass insignia and placed it on the table.
Rebecca stared.
“I’ve seen that.”
His heart stopped.
“Where?”
“In Dad’s desk.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Before he died?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to it?”
“I don’t know.”
Nshoba watched quietly.
Caleb asked:
“Did Dad ever mention Tonto Basin?”
“All the time after you left.”
“What did he say?”
“That you ruined your career over sentiment.”
Caleb laughed bitterly.
“Sounds like him.”
“He also said Crowe died.”
Caleb held up the badge.
“He didn’t.”
Rebecca looked confused.
Caleb explained.
Not everything.
Enough.
When he mentioned Crowe’s mining empire, Rebecca sat.
“This ranch.”
“Yes.”
“You think Crowe paid Dad.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t say it like you do.”
Caleb nodded.
Fair.
Rebecca crossed her arms.
“Dad was hard. Controlling. Proud. That does not mean corrupt.”
“No.”
“You hated him.”
“Yes.”
“So maybe you want him guilty.”
Caleb stared.
The idea hurt because it contained some truth.
If Samuel had been bribed, Caleb could distribute guilt.
Some to father.
Some to Crowe.
Maybe less to himself.
Nshoba spoke from the bed.
“He knows that.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“You know my brother well?”
“Four days.”
“Then how?”
Nshoba shrugged.
“He is obvious.”
Caleb glared.
Rebecca almost smiled.
For a moment they were siblings again.
Then Rebecca became serious.
“Dad left a locked box.”
Caleb froze.
“What box?”
“In the root cellar.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You vanished.”
“I wrote.”
“Twice in three years.”
Caleb looked away.
Rebecca continued.
“He told me if you ever came home asking about Tonto Basin, I should give it to you.”
That landed harder than anything else.
“You waited?”
“You never came asking.”
Rebecca took a lantern.
They went outside.
The root cellar smelled of earth and apples.
Behind shelves stood an old military chest.
Rebecca produced a key from around her neck.
Inside were papers.
Army pay records.
Land deeds.
Letters.
And cash.
Old bank notes.
Caleb stared.
Rebecca whispered:
“Jesus.”
Beneath the money lay a sealed envelope.
CALEB
His father’s handwriting.
Caleb opened it.
Only three lines.
Son, if you are reading this, then Nathaniel Crowe lived longer than I hoped.
The ranch was purchased with his money.
I told myself I took it to protect you. That was the first lie.
Caleb sat heavily on an apple crate.
Rebecca covered her mouth.
Nshoba’s father had been right.
Their father had been paid.
Caleb kept reading.
The letter continued.
The second lie was believing I could keep the money and still call myself innocent.
Beneath the letter was a bank draft.
Five thousand dollars.
Paid by CROWNE TERRITORIAL HOLDINGS.
Six days after Tonto Basin.
Rebecca whispered:
“The house.”
Caleb looked at her.
“The land.”
Her eyes filled.
“Our whole life.”
Neither spoke.
Then Nshoba’s voice came from the cellar doorway.
He had dragged himself there using a crutch Rebecca kept from her late husband.
Caleb stood angrily.
“What are you doing?”
“Listening.”
“You’ll destroy your leg.”
“Then read the rest before I do.”
Caleb looked down.
One more letter remained.
Not from Samuel.
From Nathaniel Crowe.
Samuel, your son’s statement was useful. The Black Stone tract is now clear for survey. Keep Caleb quiet and the Morrison property remains protected.
Rebecca slowly sank against the wall.
Caleb read the sentence again.
The massacre.
His false statement.
His father’s money.
The ranch.
All connected.
Then a sound came from outside.
Horse hooves.
Several.
Rebecca whispered:
“You bring anyone?”
“No.”
Nshoba reached for the knife at his belt.
Caleb drew his revolver.
A voice called from the yard.
“Rebecca Morrison!”
Caleb recognized it.
Town marshal Edwin Shaw.
“Federal warrant!”
Caleb looked at Nshoba.
“For who?”
Shaw answered through the door as though he heard.
“Caleb Morrison.”
A pause.
“And the Apache named Nshoba.”
Caleb’s blood turned cold.
May you like
![92 The Girl They Called Broke Was a Billionaire’s Daughter—But Her Father’s Arrival Exposed a Secret Powerful People Had Buried for Years]](https://cdn.treeiq.biz/site_590/2026/11/clone-0-0915d882-53d7-4d17-b43a-a010ca1a1068.webp)
Crowe was no longer threatening from shadows.
He was using law.
