Chapter 2 - Fifteen Riders
Samuel had gone into town that afternoon for flour, coffee, ammunition, and fence wire.
The general store felt unusually quiet.
Men stopped talking when he entered.
Samuel noticed.
"What happened?"
The storekeeper looked toward the windows.
"Wade Mercer."
Samuel's expression hardened.
"He's here?"
"Not here. Moving through the territory."
Mercer had a reputation.
Not the exaggerated kind told in saloons.
The real kind.
Cattle theft.
Extortion.
Burned barns.
Men beaten for refusing to cooperate.
Samuel loaded his supplies and left before sunset.
Halfway home, he found horse tracks.
Many of them.
He dismounted.
Fifteen riders, perhaps more.
All moving toward his ranch.
Samuel's stomach tightened.
He mounted again.
By the time he reached home, the sun was disappearing.
He drove the cattle into the strongest enclosure.
Locked the barn.
Checked the windows.
Loaded his rifle.
Then he waited.
The riders appeared beneath the moon.
Fifteen men.
They spread around the property.
Their leader rode forward.
Wade Mercer.
"Open the corral, Carter."
Samuel stood behind the porch railing.
"No."
Mercer smiled.
"That's unfortunate."
"You came for cattle."
"Tonight."
Samuel studied him.
"And tomorrow?"
Mercer's smile disappeared.
"Tomorrow depends on how tonight goes."
Two riders moved toward the barn.
Samuel fired into the dirt before them.
The men stopped.
"Next one won't be a warning."
Mercer laughed.
Then gunfire erupted.
Samuel moved between windows and walls, never staying in one position long enough for the attackers to predict him.
For twenty minutes, he held them back.
Then his ammunition began running low.
Smoke drifted across the yard.
Mercer shouted.
"Circle around!"
Samuel counted his remaining cartridges.
Too few.
He thought about his wife.
About the ranch.
About the years he had spent building everything alone.
He whispered a prayer.
Then a horse screamed.
Samuel looked up.
One of Mercer's horses was backing away.
Another followed.
The animals seemed frightened by something beyond the ranch.
The desert became strangely silent.
Samuel stepped toward the eastern window.
Movement appeared along the ridge.
One rider.
Then another.
Then five.
Then ten.
Mercer saw them.
His face changed.
"Apache."
More riders appeared along the southern rocks.
Then the west.
Mercer's fifteen men were suddenly surrounded.
Samuel stared.
He recognized the oldest rider.
The man from the well.
The elder looked toward Samuel.
Then toward Mercer.
Samuel lowered his rifle.
The elder raised one hand.
Mercer shouted.
"Fall back!"
His men obeyed.
Within minutes, the outlaws were gone.
The elder approached Samuel.
"You came back," Samuel said.
The elder nodded.
"You gave food when our children had none."
"I asked for nothing."
"I know."
The words struck Samuel harder than he expected.
Then another rider brought something.
A leather satchel.
It had been dropped by one of Mercer's men.
Samuel opened it.
Inside was a map.
His ranch was marked.
His well was marked.
The eastern pasture was marked.
Beside it were three words:
WATER RIGHTS TRANSFER.
Samuel stared.
Then he saw another name.
Not Wade Mercer.
A man from town.
A respected man.
A man Samuel trusted.
Elias Rourke.
Samuel slowly looked up.
"Why would Rourke want my land?"
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The elder's expression darkened.
"Because your water is worth more than your cattle."
