Chapter 20 - The Spring
Crane reached the spring first.
Not because he rode faster.
Because he had planted explosives days earlier.
Elias saw the wires immediately.
They ran from crates of blasting powder toward the limestone shelf above the water.
Railroad workers had fled after Tavan delivered Commissioner Hale’s order.
But four of Crane’s hired men remained.
Tavan’s warriors held the opposite ridge.
Nobody fired.
Crane stood between them with a pistol in one hand and the detonator line in the other.
“If anyone comes closer,” he shouted, “the spring goes.”
Elias rode into the basin.
Crane laughed.
“Of course.”
Tavan turned.
“You should be in Fort Garrett.”
“So should he.”
Elias dismounted badly.
Sani caught him.
Crane called:
“You finally found your family, Boone. Look how quickly they put you in front.”
Tavan raised his voice.
“Elias owes us nothing.”
Crane smiled.
“Very noble now.”
Elias limped forward.
“Why destroy the spring?”
“Because dead land creates cheap settlements.”
“You can’t buy it.”
“Someone will.”
“And you profit.”
“Eventually.”
Elias stared at the explosives.
“You poisoned Mara.”
Crane’s expression did not change.
“Did Voss tell you that?”
“He said you gave her laudanum.”
“She was dying.”
“Did you give too much?”
Silence.
Tavan’s face tightened.
Crane looked toward him.
“Your sister begged for relief.”
“Answer him.”
“I gave what I believed appropriate.”
Elias knew then.
Maybe Crane had intended death.
Maybe only indifference.
Either way, he had chosen his own interest over her survival.
Exactly as he had done with land, records and people for decades.
Crane lifted the detonator line.
“You think truth changes anything?”
“Yes.”
“You’re naïve.”
“No.”
Elias looked at the men around the basin.
“It changes what everybody can pretend not to know.”
Crane laughed.
Then Jonah rode onto the ridge.
Behind him came Commissioner Hale’s two federal marshals.
Crane’s hired men looked at one another.
One lowered his rifle.
Crane spun.
“Pick that up!”
The man shook his head.
“We were paid for railroad security.”
“Pick it up!”
“No.”
A second man stepped away.
Power left Crane piece by piece.
Not dramatically.
Not through a bullet.
Through people deciding he could no longer pay enough to make his danger worth sharing.
Crane saw it.
His face changed.
He pulled the detonator.
Tavan shouted.
Elias lunged.
His bad leg collapsed, but his shoulder struck Crane’s waist.
They hit the dirt.
The detonator handle fell.
Crane reached.
Tavan reached it first.
One of Crane’s remaining men raised a pistol toward Tavan.
An arrow struck the dirt at his boots.
He froze.
The gun dropped.
Crane punched Elias’s injured leg.
Pain turned the world white.
Elias rolled away screaming.
Crane grabbed his pistol.
A gunshot sounded.
Crane stopped.
The pistol fell from his hand.
No blood spray.
A small wound darkened his upper arm.
Jonah held the smoking revolver.
“I aimed wide.”
Elias looked at him.
Jonah swallowed.
“Mostly.”
Federal marshals rushed forward.
Crane was restrained.
Tavan stood holding the detonator.
For thirty years Everett Crane had moved lines on maps and expected everybody else to live where he placed them.
Now two marshals placed his hands behind his back.
Crane looked at Elias.
“This does not make the land yours.”
Elias breathed through the pain.
“I know.”
Crane frowned.
That answer bothered him.
Elias continued.
“That was your mistake.”
“What?”
“You thought everybody wanted to own what you wanted to own.”
Crane looked toward Tavan.
Then the spring.
For the first time, he seemed to understand that he had lost to people seeking different things.
Tavan wanted water and security for his community.
Elias wanted truth.
Silas wanted redemption.
Voss wanted survival.
Jonah wanted to repair a betrayal.
Their interests had overlapped long enough to stop him.
That was all.
The marshals led Crane away.
Tavan knelt beside Elias.
“You saved the spring.”
“We saved it.”
Tavan looked at his broken leg.
“You broke yourself doing it.”
“That happened earlier.”
For the first time, Tavan laughed.
A real laugh.
Elias stared at the water flowing from the limestone.
Clear.
Cold.
Ordinary.
Thirty-three years of lies had been built around ownership of something that simply rose from the earth.
Tavan offered his hand.
Elias took it.
But as they stood, Jonah approached holding something recovered from Crane’s coat.
A telegram.
Addressed to Everett Crane.
Sent that morning.
Jonah read it.
Then looked at Voss.
“What?” Elias asked.
Jonah handed it over.
CRANE—
IF BOONE CASE COLLAPSES, DESTROY SPRING AND COME EAST.
PAYMENT GUARANTEED.
—H.V.
Elias stared at the initials.
H.V.
Harlan Voss.
The man who had supposedly turned against Crane.
The man currently sitting safely in a Fort Garrett jail.
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The biggest betrayal had not come from the man standing before them.
It had been written hours earlier by the man who claimed to be helping.
