For the first time, Wade saw the woman behind the guarded expression. She was younger than he had first thought, perhaps thirty, with a quiet sense of humor and a way of looking at the world that made ordinary things seem worth noticing.
After supper, she helped him wash the dishes.
"You do not need to do that," he said.
"I know."
"Then why?"
"Because I ate the food."
Wade smiled.
"Fair enough."
They stood together at the sink while the last light faded outside.
Then Nasha asked, "Why did you really pay three hundred dollars?"
Wade dried a plate.
"I told you."
"You told me you did not want Vane to take me."
"That's true."
"But why did you care?"
He set the plate down.
For a long moment, he struggled to find the right words.
"When my wife was alive, she used to say that a person could spend their whole life looking away from trouble. But sooner or later, trouble would come looking for them."
Nasha watched him.
"She sounds wise."
"She was."
He looked toward the dark window.
"I suppose I was tired of looking away."
Nasha lowered her eyes.
"Then perhaps you have done something good."
Wade shook his head.
"I don't know about that."
"Neither do I," she said. "But I know what it means when someone gives you a choice."
She turned away before he could answer.
That night, Wade sat alone on the porch and watched the stars appear.
He thought about the map, Vane's threats, and the woman sleeping in the cabin by the creek.
He had no idea what the coming weeks would bring.
But for the first time in years, he did not feel entirely alone.
Two weeks after the auction, Nasha found the first clue that Vane's men were watching the ranch.
She discovered a fresh horseshoe print beside the creek, near a place where the grass had been flattened. The rider had approached from the east, dismounted, and remained there for some time.
She showed the tracks to Wade.
"One man," she said. "He came yesterday afternoon."
Wade crouched beside the prints.
"How can you tell?"
"The ground is soft near the water. His horse was heavy, and the right front shoe is loose."
Wade studied the tracks.
"You can tell all that from a footprint?"
"Yes."
He stood.
"Then we should assume he knows we're aware of him."
Nasha nodded.
"Vane will send more men."
Wade went inside and took down his rifle.
He had hoped the ranch would remain outside the conflict, but he was beginning to understand that Vane had no intention of leaving them alone.
That afternoon, a letter arrived.
It was delivered by a young boy from town, who rode up to the gate and handed Wade a folded piece of paper.
The message contained only a few lines.
Sutter,
You have something that belongs to me. Bring it to Red Creek before Sunday, and this matter can be settled peacefully.
Silas Vane
Wade read it twice.
Then he handed it to Nasha.
She studied the paper.
"He believes I have the map."
"Do you?"
She looked at him.
"I know where it is."
Wade waited.
Nasha walked to the cabin and returned with a small leather pouch. From it, she removed a narrow strip of folded cloth.
She unfolded it carefully.
Inside was a drawing made with charcoal and red earth. It showed a series of hills, a winding creek, and several marks indicating springs.
Wade stared at it.
"This is the map?"
"Part of it."
"Where is the rest?"
Nasha folded the cloth.
"My father divided it into three pieces. He gave one to me, one to my uncle, and one to a man who promised to protect the water routes."
"Who was the man?"
"An old surveyor named Elias Mercer."
Wade frowned.
"Mercer? I knew a man by that name. He worked for the territorial land office."
"He disappeared last spring."
Wade remembered the rumors. Mercer had been investigating land claims near the southern hills when his horse was found wandering beside a dry creek.
The authorities had called it an accident.
Vane had purchased the land a month later.
Wade looked at the drawing again.
"Why did your father divide the map?"
"Because he knew men would try to steal it."
"Does Vane know about the three pieces?"
"He knows there are three. He does not know where the others are."
Wade folded the cloth and handed it back.
"Then we need to find Mercer."
Nasha shook her head.
"We need to find my uncle first."
"Where is he?"
She hesitated.
"I believe he is being held near Vane's property."
Wade stared at her.
"You're telling me Vane has your uncle?"
"I believe so."
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Because I did not know if I could trust you."
Wade absorbed that quietly.
"Fair enough."
She looked surprised.
"You are not angry?"
"No."
"Most men would be."
"I'm not most men."
Nasha studied him.
"That remains to be seen."
Wade smiled faintly.
"Then I suppose we'll have to see."
He spread a map of the territory across the kitchen table.
Vane's property lay twenty miles south of Red Creek, near a narrow canyon that led toward the old water routes.
The ranch was surrounded by a high fence, and a small stone building stood near the eastern gate.
"That used to be a storage house," Wade said. "Vane bought it from a mining company."
Nasha leaned over the map.
"My uncle could be there."
"We'll need help."
"Who?"
Wade thought of the sheriff, then dismissed the idea.
Sheriff Harlan had been Vane's friend for years. He would warn Vane before they reached town.
There was only one person Wade could think of who might help them.
Ruth Holloway.
Ruth was a former schoolteacher who lived on the edge of Red Creek. She had once worked for the territorial land office, and she knew more about property records than anyone in the county.
She also hated Silas Vane.
Wade saddled Copper.
"We're going to town."
Nasha picked up her blanket.
"I am coming with you."
He nodded.
"I figured you would."
Ruth Holloway lived in a small white house surrounded by neglected rose bushes.
She was a woman in her sixties with silver hair, sharp eyes, and a habit of speaking as though every sentence were a challenge.
When Wade knocked on her door, she opened it with a revolver in her hand.
"You're late," she said.
Wade blinked.
"Late for what?"
Ruth lowered the revolver.
"For whatever trouble you've brought to my doorstep."
She looked past him at Nasha.
Then her expression changed.
"Come inside."
The house was filled with books, maps, and boxes of old documents. A large wooden table stood in the center of the room, covered with papers.
Ruth poured coffee into three cups.
"Tell me everything."
Wade explained the auction, the threats, and the map.
Ruth listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she leaned back in her chair.
"I knew Vane was involved in something. I just didn't know how far it went."
"What do you know?" Nasha asked.
Ruth opened a drawer and removed a bundle of letters.
"Last winter, several families filed complaints about men entering their land without permission. The complaints disappeared. A few months later, the same land was sold to Vane."
She spread the letters across the table.
"These are copies I made before the originals vanished."
Wade read one.
The document described a group of men threatening a family near the southern river. Another letter claimed that a surveyor had been paid to alter a boundary.
"Who signed the survey?" he asked.
Ruth pointed to the bottom of the page.
"Elias Mercer."
Nasha leaned forward.
"Was he working for Vane?"
"No," Ruth said. "At least not at first. Mercer was an honest man. He believed the land office was being cheated."
"What happened to him?"
Ruth lowered her voice.
"He came to see me three days before he disappeared. He said he had found proof that Vane's water claims were fraudulent."
Wade felt a chill.
"Did he tell you where the proof was?"
Ruth shook her head.
"He said he had hidden it somewhere safe."
Nasha touched the folded map in her pouch.
"My father trusted him with one part of the water map."