Chapter 9 - The Well
Cade kicked the wooden cover over the well.
“Now!”
Nalin fired at the ridge.
Not to hit.
To force heads down.
Colter’s men unleashed a volley.
Father Ruiz rang the damaged church bell with both hands.
The noise frightened horses.
Cade sprinted toward the rear alley.
His wounded arm felt as though the bullet had returned and was cutting deeper.
Nalin followed.
Colter dragged one injured rider with him.
They reached the south trail as Creed’s men began descending toward the well.
“He’ll recover the ledger,” Nalin said.
“Yes.”
“You ruined evidence.”
“I bought time.”
“You enjoy that answer.”
“It keeps being true.”
They entered a narrow canyon behind San Mateo.
Ruiz came last on a mule.
“I told you to stay,” Cade said.
“And allow men to burn my church?”
“You left it.”
“Yes. Therefore they may burn it without me inside.”
Cade decided he liked the priest.
The trail narrowed.
Colter rode beside him.
“You really dropped it?”
“Yes.”
“Our only evidence?”
“First evidence.”
Nalin looked back.
“Second remains.”
Cade nodded.
Colter stared.
“You know where?”
“Maybe.”
His brother laughed once.
“You always did enjoy withholding the important part.”
Nalin said, “He learned from family.”
Colter smiled despite himself.
By midday they reached a shaded canyon spring.
Father Ruiz examined Cade’s arm.
“You need stitches.”
“Later.”
“No.”
Ruiz looked at Nalin.
“He listens to you?”
“Rarely.”
“Hold him.”
Cade sighed.
“I’ll sit.”
The priest cleaned and stitched the graze.
Cade’s knuckles whitened.
Nalin watched with undisguised satisfaction.
“You said it did not hurt.”
“Changed my mind.”
Colter sat nearby.
The brothers avoided looking directly at each other.
Finally Cade asked:
“Who is Lieutenant Voss now?”
Colter frowned.
“You remember him.”
“He’s in the ledger.”
“General Nathaniel Voss.”
Cade stared.
“General?”
“Territorial command influence. Washington connections. Railroad investors.”
Nalin’s expression hardened.
“He worked with Creed?”
“Still does indirectly.”
“So even if we expose Creed—”
“Voss protects himself.”
Cade understood why the original ledger mattered.
Creed’s first transaction book likely connected Voss to illegal weapons shipments and land schemes.
Father Ruiz asked:
“What is your plan?”
Nobody answered.
Ruiz sighed.
“Four armed fugitives, one priest, half a map, powerful enemies. Excellent.”
Colter smiled.
“You forgot the wounded gunman.”
“God did not.”
Nalin studied Taza’s letter again.
“Place where water enters stone.”
Cade described the spring near Fort Grant.
Ruiz shook his head.
“Taza would not write a clue Cade could solve more easily than family.”
Nalin looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Taza wrote the letter to me for you.”
She reread it.
Apache words surrounded the English phrase.
After several minutes her expression changed.
“It may not mean literal water.”
“What else?” Cade asked.
“Our mother used a phrase.”
Nalin translated roughly.
“When grief enters stone, memory becomes water.”
Colter blinked.
“That clears nothing.”
Nalin ignored him.
“There was a burial place near our old camp.”
Cade listened.
“Stone cairns?”
“Yes.”
“And water?”
“A seasonal spring below.”
“Near Fort Grant?”
“East.”
Cade remembered terrain.
“That puts it near Eagle Tooth Ridge.”
Nalin nodded.
“Taza and I went there when we were children.”
Ruiz smiled.
“There is your place.”
Colter stood.
“Creed will assume the fort spring.”
“Good.”
“Not if he remembers Taza’s family.”
Nalin looked at him.
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.”
Cade asked, “Who else knows?”
Colter’s expression darkened.
“General Voss.”
Of course.
The old officer had used Apache scouts.
He might know their camps.
Father Ruiz said, “Then we move tonight.”
Colter looked north.
“My men can create a false trail toward Fort Grant.”
Cade studied his brother.
“You trust them?”
“Two.”
“Which?”
Colter pointed.
A dark-haired rider named Miles.
A younger man called Reed.
The wounded attackers from the mission were Colter’s hired guns, not confidants.
One had already abandoned them.
Colter seemed unsurprised.
“Creed pays better.”
Nalin said, “Your loyalty purchases are failing.”
Colter looked at her.
“Yes.”
Cade recognized that admission.
His brother’s certainties were cracking too.
Miles and Reed agreed to ride northwest, dragging brush behind horses to exaggerate tracks.
Colter gave them money.
Cade said, “If Creed catches them?”
“They surrender.”
“Creed may kill them.”
“They know.”
Nalin stared at Colter.
“Men working for powerful men always ‘know’ until bullets come.”
Colter had no answer.
At dusk they separated.
Cade, Nalin, Colter, and Father Ruiz rode east.
The desert became violet.
Stars emerged.
Near midnight, they saw firelight ahead.
Not a campfire.
Several.
Nalin halted.
“This is near Eagle Tooth.”
Cade counted.
At least thirty.
Colter whispered:
“Voss.”
Through the darkness came the sound of disciplined horses and military commands.
Not Creed’s gunmen.
Soldiers.
Nalin looked at Cade.
“You said Fort Grant was eleven years ago.”
“It was.”
Colter’s face tightened.
“Apparently the Army remembers too.”
A rider approached their position from behind.
They turned.
Reed stumbled from his horse.
Blood darkened his shirt.
Cade caught him.
“Creed found us,” Reed gasped.
“Where’s Miles?”
“Dead.”
Colter closed his eyes.
Reed grabbed his coat.
“He knew.”
“Who?”
“Creed.”
“About Eagle Tooth?”
Reed shook his head.
“Everything.”
His breathing broke.
“Voss told him.”
Cade looked toward the military fires.
Reed whispered one final sentence.
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“They’re waiting for Nalin.”
Then his grip loosened.
