Chapter 22 - The Water Board
The hardest work began after the villain lost.
Mara had warned Cole.
He had not believed her.
Hale gone did not decide who received water in June.
The Dry Corridor Water Board formed with representatives from affected communities.
Apache families.
Mexican ranchers.
White settlers.
Army liaison.
Independent surveyor.
Cole held one seat for Maddox Ranch.
Mara refused a permanent seat because she worked on records and wanted independence.
The chief appointed another representative.
Meetings were miserable.
Everyone had reasons.
Upstream users wanted security.
Downstream families wanted restoration.
Ranchers feared herd loss.
Communities feared exclusion.
Old grievances returned.
One meeting lasted nine hours.
Cole nearly walked out.
Mara caught him outside.
“Where are you going?”
“To become a hermit.”
“Denied.”
“They argue about every gallon.”
“Yes.”
“I preferred gunfire.”
“That is because gunfire ends faster.”
Cole looked at her.
She continued:
“Shared life is repetitive.”
He groaned.
She smiled.
The board developed seasonal allocation.
No permanent closure without public notice.
Emergency drought sharing.
Independent measurement.
Appeal process.
Imperfect.
But visible.
The first drought tested everything.
Water levels fell.
Cole’s allocation dropped thirty percent.
Jonah protested.
“We’ll lose calves.”
“Probably.”
“Board gave downstream camps too much.”
Cole reviewed measurements.
They had not.
The numbers were fair.
He hated them anyway.
That was the test.
Would he support a system only when it benefited him?
He sold cattle early.
Lost money.
No lawsuit.
No private fence.
Naya’s community received enough water to avoid relocation.
One evening she visited with her mother.
Now seven.
She rode Dust under supervision.
Cole complained.
“You’re spoiling him.”
Naya ignored him.
Dust clearly preferred her.
Mara laughed.
“Jealous?”
“Deeply.”
Cole had changed the first canteen into a board symbol.
Not official.
He brought it to drought meetings.
Anyone speaking held it.
A joke at first.
Then tradition.
The rule became:
Nobody spoke twice until everyone who wanted had spoken once.
Cole hated how effective it was.
Caleb wrote from New Mexico after release.
He worked repairing freight wagons.
Could not own firearms during supervision.
Paid Sarah Bennett monthly.
Ten dollars.
Exactly what she demanded.
His first payment returned with a note:
Received. Continue.
No warmth.
No forgiveness.
He framed it.
Arthur lived quietly in Tucson.
He volunteered with record restoration.
Cole suspected guilt.
Mara called it useful guilt.
Gideon Rusk served prison time.
Silas Rusk received a longer sentence after detention-related charges.
Dr. Bell’s notes helped clear Mara’s father’s official record.
A new marker was placed at his grave.
No grand language.
Interpreter.
Witness.
Father.
Cole traveled with Mara to see it.
She touched the stone.
“I wanted more.”
“What?”
“I thought when his name was cleared, something would change.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
Cole waited.
Mara continued:
“But I am glad.”
Both could be true.
They returned by wagon.
Halfway, Mara asked:
“Do you still think Dust stopped because he heard a groan?”
“Yes.”
“What if he smelled water?”
“There was no water.”
“What if he smelled people?”
“Possible.”
“What if he simply wanted rest?”
Cole looked offended.
“Do not insult the hero of this story.”
Mara laughed.
Then became quiet.
“I’m staying.”
Cole turned.
“In Arizona?”
“Yes.”
“Washington?”
“Finished.”
“Where?”
“Dry Hollow part of the year. Fort Grant archives part.”
Cole nodded.
He was afraid to ask more.
Mara saw.
“You can ask.”
“Are you staying with me?”
“Sometimes.”
Cole smiled.
“Terrible answer.”
“Honest.”
He took her hand.
They had never needed a dramatic declaration.
Their relationship had grown like the water board.
Negotiated.
Revised.
Occasionally infuriating.
Transparent.
Mara looked toward the sunset.
“Maybe someday I live at the ranch.”
“Maybe.”
“You are not supposed to sound indifferent.”
“I am practicing non-ownership.”
She punched his shoulder.
Cole laughed.
A year earlier, he had believed goodness meant asking nothing.
Now he knew relationships required asking.
The danger was not desire.
The danger was turning desire into debt.
He squeezed her hand.
“I want you there.”
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Mara leaned against him.
“Better.”
