HE GAVE WATER TO A WOUNDED APACHE WOMAN—BY SUNRISE 300 RIDERS SURROUNDED HIS RANCH, AND THE BUNDLE SHE CARRIED THREATENED TO DESTROY HIS FAMILY NAME

The first wagon stopped outside Corvin's north fence shortly after seven.

Silas Vane stepped down wearing a gray traveling coat too clean for the desert.

Corvin had known him since childhood.

Vane had attended Helena Torne's funeral. He had given Corvin his first business loan. When drought nearly destroyed the ranch four years earlier, Vane had extended credit without demanding immediate repayment.

Corvin had once considered him family.

Now he watched Vane approach under the eyes of three hundred mounted witnesses.

Sheriff Abel Rourke rode beside him.

"Corvin," Vane called. "Seems you've collected company."

Corvin kept the forged agreement folded inside his shirt.

"What are you doing on my land?"

Vane smiled.

"Our land."

Silence swept across the yard.

Rourke rested one hand near his holster.

Mara remained beside the well.

Vane noticed her bandaged arm.

For less than a second, his pleasant expression disappeared.

Mara noticed.

So did Corvin.

Vane recovered quickly.

"I brought surveyors. You knew they were coming."

"No."

"Your agreement says otherwise."

"Show me."

Vane removed a leather folder from his coat.

The document inside appeared identical to the one from Helena's box.

Same clauses.

Same signature.

Same date.

Three weeks earlier.

Corvin looked up.

"I was driving cattle near Flagstaff three weeks ago."

Vane shrugged.

"You returned for two days."

"No."

"Perhaps you've forgotten."

Corvin laughed once.

It contained no humor.

"You're telling me I forgot selling the water beneath my ranch?"

Rourke stepped forward.

"Nobody's accusing anybody of anything."

Mara spoke from behind Corvin.

"That is usually what a man says before accusing someone."

Rourke's eyes sharpened.

"You shouldn't be here."

Mara lifted her chin.

"Yesterday your men said the same thing."

Corvin turned.

"His men?"

Mara nodded.

Rourke's hand moved.

Corvin stepped between them.

"Easy."

Vane's expression tightened.

"This doesn't concern them."

Corvin pulled the forged document from his shirt.

"It seems to."

Vane froze.

Only briefly.

But Corvin saw it.

"Where did you get that?"

"Interesting question."

"That's company property."

"No. This was written before your company existed."

Vane stared at the paper.

The elder stepped forward carrying the wooden box.

Vane's face lost color.

Corvin saw something he had never seen in the banker before.

Fear.

Real fear.

Vane whispered, "That box was destroyed."

The words fell into the yard like stones.

Corvin slowly turned toward him.

"You've seen it?"

Vane immediately corrected himself.

"I've heard of it."

"You said destroyed."

Rourke interrupted.

"Enough."

He produced a folded territorial order.

"This property is subject to temporary commercial possession pending completion of the railway transfer."

Corvin read the heading.

District Judge Horace Bell.

The order authorized Vane Consolidated to begin surveying.

"This was issued yesterday," Corvin said.

"Correct."

"Before anyone told me."

"You signed the transfer."

"I did not."

Rourke's eyes were cold.

"That's something you can argue in court."

"When?"

"Monday."

Today was Friday.

Corvin looked toward the surveyors.

Three days were enough to remove documents, alter landmarks, dynamite a ridge, or manufacture evidence.

Mara seemed to read his thoughts.

"They do not need the whole ranch," she said.

She pointed toward the map.

"They need one place."

The elder opened Helena's ledger.

One page contained numbers and locations written in Helena's hand.

Corvin recognized pasture descriptions.

South mesa.

Juniper wash.

Old stone well.

Then another entry:

BLACK RIDGE — COPPER VEIN CONFIRMED. NO EXTRACTION. JOINT WATER COVENANT PROHIBITS TRANSFER WITHOUT BOTH PARTIES.

Corvin stared.

Copper.

Vane's company had recently purchased smelters and rail access throughout the territory.

If Black Ridge contained a substantial deposit—

"This isn't about cattle land," Corvin said.

Vane gave him a sad smile.

"You were never much of a businessman, Corvin."

The insult hurt because Corvin had heard the same words from his father.

Vane turned toward Rourke.

"Enforce the order."

Several deputies rode toward the gate.

Immediately, dozens of Apache riders descended the slopes.

Not charging.

Just moving.

The message was clear.

Rourke stopped.

"We have legal authority."

The elder spoke through Mara.

"So do we."

Mara removed another document from the box.

The paper was old enough that its edges had gone brown.

Two signatures appeared at the bottom.

One belonged to Helena Torne.

The other was marked by the name of Mara's grandfather.

A territorial clerk's seal was faintly visible.

Corvin read the first paragraph twice.

It established shared access to the spring beneath Torne Ranch and prohibited mineral transfer without consent from both signatories or their lawful representatives.

Vane shook his head.

"Meaningless."

"Then why were your men chasing it?" Mara asked.

He ignored her.

Corvin looked at Vane.

"Monday. Court."

Vane stepped closer.

"You owe my bank eleven thousand eight hundred dollars."

Corvin said nothing.

"If this agreement is invalidated, I'll call every note tomorrow."

Corvin felt the threat land.

Without credit, the ranch could collapse before a judge heard anything.