Chapter 1 - Not Forgotten
In the spring of 1874, Arizona Territory was a place where fear often traveled faster than truth.
Samuel Carter had learned that lesson years before.
He was a widower living several miles beyond the nearest settlement, where the desert seemed to stretch forever and the nearest neighbor was far enough away that a man could spend an entire day riding there and back.
Samuel had built his ranch himself.
The house was small.
The barn leaned slightly to the west.
The corral needed repairing.
The roof over the kitchen had leaked twice during the previous winter.
But the land was his.
At least, Samuel believed it was.
His wife had been dead for twelve years, and they had never had children. He sometimes wondered whether the silence of the house had become too familiar.
That afternoon, while repairing the corral, Samuel's horse suddenly raised its head.
The animal stared toward the western ridge.
Samuel straightened.
Six figures were walking toward him.
His hand moved automatically toward the rifle leaning against the porch.
Then he saw the people more clearly.
Two elderly men.
Two women.
Two children.
Apache.
Samuel's fingers tightened around the rifle.
He had heard every story the neighboring ranchers told.
Stories of raids.
Stories of stolen horses.
Stories of families disappearing.
Some stories were true.
Others had grown larger with every retelling.
The six strangers stopped several yards away.
The older man slowly raised both empty hands.
"We need water," he said in broken English. "Food, if you have. Then we leave."
Samuel looked at the children.
One little boy stumbled.
His mother caught him before he fell.
The child's lips were cracked.
Samuel lowered his rifle.
"Wait there."
The older man nodded.
Samuel walked to the well.
He drew water.
The children drank first.
Then the women.
Only afterward did the men drink.
Samuel watched them silently.
Thirst, he realized, looked exactly the same on every human face.
He went into the barn.
When he returned, he carried meat.
The elder stared at him.
"You need food," Samuel said.
The man lowered his head.
"You are kind."
Samuel shook his head.
"Don't call it kindness."
He pointed toward the children.
"They're hungry."
The meal lasted nearly an hour.
The six travelers ate beneath the cottonwood trees.
Samuel noticed how the adults watched the children constantly.
No one grabbed more than they needed.
No one complained.
They looked exhausted rather than dangerous.
Before sunset, the elder approached Samuel.
He placed one hand over his heart.
"Not forgotten."
Samuel gave a small nod.
"I didn't ask you to remember."
"I know."
The six travelers disappeared into the mountains.
Samuel watched until the last figure vanished.
Then he returned to his chores.
He believed the encounter was over.
He was wrong.
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Three weeks later, fifteen armed riders surrounded his ranch.
And the first thing Samuel noticed was that every one of them was looking at his well.
