Chapter 2 - The Execution That Wasn’t
Jacob had spent most of his life learning how quickly a man could die if he hesitated.
But now hesitation was the only thing keeping him from making another mistake.
He lowered the revolver.
Not completely.
Just enough.
The Chief noticed.
“My name is Tomas Red Hawk,” he said. “Settlers call me Chief because it makes their ledgers easier. Here, I speak for the council when the council asks me to.”
Jacob looked toward the platform.
“Then explain that.”
Eli’s severed ropes still hung from the upright post.
Beside them rested a wooden block.
A spear-bearing warrior stood nearby.
“It looked like an execution.”
“It was a judgment.”
“With a spear?”
Tomas walked to the platform.
He lifted the spear.
The blade was dull.
A carved strip of wood had been tied beneath the point.
“This marks decisions of the council. It was not meant for the boy.”
Jacob felt heat rise into his face.
He had charged into the camp firing a revolver over people’s heads.
He had nearly killed someone because he had interpreted one image before understanding it.
Eli looked down.
“I tried to tell you.”
Jacob rounded on him.
“You screamed my name.”
“I was scared.”
“So I was supposed to leave you tied up?”
“No!”
“Then what?”
Eli wiped his face.
“I didn’t know what I wanted.”
Jacob understood that better than he wanted to.
Tomas handed the spear back to the warrior.
“The boy entered our western burial ground yesterday morning.”
Jacob looked at Eli.
“You came here alone?”
Eli nodded.
“From Silas’s ranch?”
Another nod.
“That’s nearly forty miles.”
“I took a horse.”
“You’re thirteen.”
“I know how old I am.”
“You could have died out there.”
Eli’s chin lifted stubbornly.
“So could Mom.”
Jacob froze.
Tomas stepped between them before anger swallowed the conversation.
“Eli carried a hand-drawn map.”
He gestured.
A warrior produced folded paper.
Jacob recognized the handwriting immediately.
Silas.
The map marked a route through the Red Mesa valley.
At the end was a circle around a place labeled OLD STONE CHAMBER.
“What is this?”
Eli answered.
“Uncle Silas said Mom hid proof there.”
“What proof?”
“That she didn’t die by accident.”
Jacob looked at Tomas.
The Chief’s expression remained guarded.
“And?”
Tomas pointed to the medallion.
“The boy found this.”
Jacob studied it more carefully.
One side showed a cottonwood tree.
The other held three parallel lines above a crescent.
It did not look like decoration.
It looked like a seal.
“What is it?”
Tomas answered carefully.
“Half of an agreement.”
“Half?”
“There are two medallions.”
“Where’s the other?”
Tomas looked at him.
“In the possession of the Hayes family.”
Jacob laughed once.
“That’s impossible.”
“Your grandfather carried it.”
“My grandfather died before I was born.”
“Then someone inherited it.”
Jacob thought of Silas.
His father’s older brother.
The man who had inherited nearly every document from the original Hayes homestead.
Tomas continued.
“Thirty-two years ago, Jacob Hayes Senior and three families from my people agreed to share access to Coyote Spring.”
Jacob frowned.
“My grandfather bought that spring.”
“That is what Silas tells the territorial land office.”
“You’re saying he didn’t?”
“I am saying there was an agreement before the government drew many of the boundaries it now pretends have always existed.”
Jacob studied the medallion.
“What does this prove?”
“By itself? Little.”
Tomas nodded toward the pouch.
“But Clara believed the two pieces together could identify a buried copy of the compact.”
Eli whispered:
“Mom knew?”
Tomas looked at him differently then.
Softer.
“Your mother knew much more than she told you.”
Eli swallowed.
“Did she come here before she died?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Tomas looked at Jacob.
“Because Silas Hayes had begun selling land he did not fully own.”
Jacob shook his head.
“Silas doesn’t sell land.”
“He sold water rights.”
“To who?”
“A company from Denver.”
Jacob’s stomach tightened.
He had heard Silas mention investors.
Rail men.
Mining men.
Nothing specific.
Tomas continued.
“They intend to divert Coyote Spring north.”
“That would dry this valley.”
“And three ranches belonging to settlers.”
Jacob knew them.
Small families.
People who had no idea their wells depended on the same underground flow.
“How much money?”
Tomas’s gaze hardened.
“Enough for Silas Hayes to value signatures more than blood.”
Jacob looked at Eli.
“What did Silas tell you?”
The boy hesitated.
“That Mom found the medallion before she died.”
“And?”
“He said the tribe took it from her.”
Tomas gave a humorless smile.
“We returned it to its hiding place after she died.”
“Why?”
“Because Clara asked us to.”
Jacob looked sharply at him.
“You said she was alive when you found her?”
Tomas nodded.
“Barely.”
“What happened?”
“We found her near the south ravine. Her wagon had overturned.”
Jacob exhaled.
“So it was an accident.”
“No.”
Tomas crouched and drew three lines in the dust.
“Wagon tracks.”
Then another set.
“Horse tracks.”
Then a deep slash crossing them.
“Her axle had been cut nearly through.”
Jacob felt his throat tighten.
“You saw that?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell the marshal?”
“We did.”
Jacob blinked.
“What?”
Tomas’s expression changed.
“A man came from town two days later.”
“Marshal Boone?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“Silas Hayes.”
Jacob stared.
Tomas continued.
“He said he represented your family. He took Clara’s broken axle, her papers and the leather satchel she carried.”
Eli whispered:
“Uncle Silas?”
Tomas nodded.
Jacob shook his head.
“No. Silas told me he found the wagon after the accident.”
“He found what we left for him.”
“Why would Clara trust him?”
“She did not.”
“Then why let him take anything?”
“Because we believed your law would investigate.”
Tomas looked toward the western ridge.
“We were wrong.”
Jacob suddenly remembered Clara’s funeral.
Silas standing beside the coffin.
His hand on Eli’s shoulder.
His voice low and steady.
Terrible road.
Loose stone.
Nothing anyone could have done.
Jacob had believed every word.
Tomas handed Jacob the medallion.
“If you want to know why Clara died, stop asking what the boy stole.”
Jacob closed his fingers around the carved metal.
“What should I ask?”
Tomas looked directly at Eli.
“Ask why Silas sent a thirteen-year-old boy to retrieve something he was too frightened to come for himself.”
Eli’s eyes widened.
Jacob slowly turned toward him.
And suddenly he understood.
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Eli had not escaped Silas’s ranch.
He had been sent.
