Chapter 11 - Three Trails
Cade hated separating.
That was exactly why Nalin was right.
General Voss knew the old Cade.
Creed did.
Colter did.
Men who survived by pattern became vulnerable to anyone patient enough to learn them.
Cade ran west carrying the ledger beneath his torn poncho.
His arm burned.
Behind him, soldiers shouted.
Two followed.
Good.
Nalin drew others east.
Colter headed south.
The plan worked.
Which meant it would fail soon.
Cade descended through broken basalt.
A bullet struck rock beside his boot.
He slipped.
His injured arm instinctively reached for balance.
Pain blinded him.
He fell six feet down the slope and landed on his shoulder.
For several seconds he could not breathe.
No instant recovery.
He rolled behind a rock.
Footsteps approached.
A soldier shouted:
“Thorn! General wants you alive!”
Cade laughed weakly.
“That makes one of us.”
He had no revolver.
Only the captured rifle.
One round chambered.
Maybe four remaining.
He waited.
First soldier appeared.
Young.
Twenty perhaps.
Cade could kill him.
Instead he fired into the ground near the man’s boot.
Dust exploded.
The soldier jumped back.
Cade moved downslope.
Second soldier cut him off.
Rifle aimed.
“Stop!”
Cade stopped.
The soldier’s hands shook.
“Drop it.”
Cade studied him.
Uniform clean.
No knowledge of why he had been ordered here.
Another tool.
Cade slowly lowered the rifle.
Then a shot cracked from behind the soldier.
His hat flew off.
He ducked instinctively.
Cade tackled him.
Both hit the ground.
The soldier lost his rifle.
Cade pinned him.
“Who fired?”
“I don’t know!”
A second shot struck the rock.
Not Army fire.
Different angle.
Cade rolled away.
The soldier scrambled behind cover beside him.
They looked at each other.
Temporary alliance formed by geometry.
“Creed?” the soldier asked.
Cade nodded.
“Probably.”
The young man swallowed.
“Nobody told us civilians were involved.”
“They rarely do.”
“General said stolen Army records.”
“That part’s true.”
“What records?”
“The kind generals steal back personally.”
The soldier looked at Cade.
Then toward the ridge.
“My name’s Elias Ward.”
“Bad day, Elias.”
“Seems so.”
The other Army soldier shouted from above:
“Ward!”
Elias answered:
“Creed shooters west!”
A bullet struck nearby.
The second soldier moved toward them.
Then rifle fire erupted from lower canyon.
Creed’s men had arrived.
Now Army soldiers and hired gunmen shot at each other without fully understanding why.
Cade almost admired the efficiency of corruption turning on itself.
He retrieved his rifle.
Elias saw.
“You’re still under arrest.”
“Later.”
“Agreed.”
They fired toward muzzle flashes.
Cade saw Harlan Mercer behind a mesquite tree.
His forearm was bandaged from Nalin’s chair-leg strike.
Harlan fired clumsily with the other hand.
Cade aimed.
Could have killed him.
Instead shot the rifle stock.
Wood splintered.
Harlan dropped it and retreated.
Cade noticed his own change.
Once he had solved threats permanently because permanent was simple.
Now he needed witnesses alive.
Evidence needed mouths.
Elias said, “You missed.”
“No.”
The soldier stared.
Before asking more, a bugle sounded retreat.
Army men began withdrawing toward Voss.
Creed’s shooters stopped pursuing them.
Interesting.
Cade realized the firefight might be theater.
Voss and Creed still coordinated.
A few expendable men could die to preserve deniability.
He looked at Elias.
“Your general is working with Creed.”
The young soldier stiffened.
“Careful.”
“Why did the hired men stop when the bugle sounded?”
Elias looked west.
Cade saw doubt arrive.
Good.
“Come with me.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I’m a soldier.”
“So was Taza.”
Elias frowned.
“The Apache scout?”
“You know the name?”
“We were briefed.”
Cade felt alarm.
“What were you told?”
“That Taza Nalin stole military payment records in 1875 and hidden copies may have resurfaced.”
“They told you his sister was here?”
“No.”
“Creed?”
“No.”
“Me?”
Elias hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“You’re wanted for the murder of Taza Nalin.”
Cade almost laughed.
Of course.
Voss had prepared the legal story.
If Cade survived Creed, soldiers could arrest him.
If he died, his guilt became explanation.
The ledger under Cade’s poncho suddenly felt heavier.
“Read this.”
He handed it to Elias.
Dangerous.
Necessary.
The soldier opened a random page.
Saw Voss’s name.
Payments.
Weapons.
His face changed.
“This could be forged.”
“Yes.”
“You admit that?”
“Anything can.”
Elias looked at him.
“Then how do I know?”
“You don’t.”
Cade took the ledger back.
“That’s why we need the originals, witnesses, bank records, freight manifests.”
“You have those?”
“Scattered.”
Elias nodded slowly.
He was thinking like someone who had not yet learned obedience could replace thought.
Good.
A scream echoed from the east.
Nalin.
Cade knew her voice now.
He moved immediately.
Then stopped.
Predictable.
Again.
Elias stared.
“What?”
Cade listened.
Another cry.
Same words.
“Cade!”
But something wrong.
Too clear.
Too repeated.
A lure.
He looked toward the ridge instead.
Through dust he saw two riders moving north.
One held a prisoner.
Nalin.
Gagged.
The screaming came from someone else below.
Creed had anticipated the lesson.
He knew Cade might resist the obvious rescue.
So he created two.
Elias whispered:
“Which one?”
May you like
![92 The Girl They Called Broke Was a Billionaire’s Daughter—But Her Father’s Arrival Exposed a Secret Powerful People Had Buried for Years]](https://cdn.treeiq.biz/site_590/2026/11/clone-0-0915d882-53d7-4d17-b43a-a010ca1a1068.webp)
Cade felt cold.
“That’s the problem.”
