"I don't know."
It was the only honest answer he had.
The Woman Named Elena
The woman introduced herself as Elena.
She was not the chief, although the others listened when she spoke.
The chief was an elderly man named Tomas, who had been riding until his horse collapsed the previous evening. He now walked with a carved wooden staff.
There were fifty-three people in the group.
Thirty-one adults.
Twenty-two children.
Nine horses remained.
Only four were strong enough to carry riders.
Jonah counted them carefully.
He counted everything.
Water.
Food.
Horses.
Distance.
Time.
The desert punished mistakes.
"We can't take all of them twenty miles north without water," Elena said.
Jonah pointed toward a narrow canyon.
"We can stop there for the afternoon."
"There is no water."
"No."
She frowned.
"Then why stop?"
"Because the canyon has shade."
Jonah rode ahead.
The group followed.
He had expected suspicion.
Instead, they followed because they had nothing else.
At the canyon, Jonah showed them how to shelter beneath an overhang where the sandstone remained cool.
He distributed the water from his canteen.
One mouthful per person.
No more.
A little boy stared at him.
Jonah handed him the cup.
The child drank.
Then he gave the cup back.
Jonah refilled it halfway.
The boy looked surprised.
"You have more?"
"A little."
The boy smiled.
Elena watched from a distance.
"You should save it," she said.
Jonah shrugged.
"I've been saving it for forty-two years."
She didn't understand.
"Your whole life?"
"Feels like it."
For the first time, she smiled.
It was a small smile.
But Jonah noticed.
That evening, Tomas called Jonah over.
The old chief sat against the canyon wall.
"You know the desert," Tomas said.
Jonah nodded.
"Better than most."
"Then tell me something."
Tomas looked toward the children.
"Can you save them?"
Jonah didn't answer immediately.
He had learned not to make promises in places where the earth itself could kill you.
Finally he said, "I'll try."
Tomas nodded.
"That is better than a promise."
Jonah unfolded his old leather map.
He had drawn it himself over decades.
Old trails.
Dry wells.
Abandoned settlements.
Rock formations.
Seasonal rivers.
And one mark near the northern mountains.
A black circle.
Jonah touched it.
"There."
Elena leaned closer.
"What is it?"
"An old spring."
"Is it still there?"
Jonah looked at her.
"I don't know."
"Then why go?"
"Because if it isn't there, we're already dead."
Silence followed.
Tomas laughed quietly.
Elena stared at Jonah.
"You talk like a man who has already accepted death."
Jonah folded the map.
"No."
He looked toward the darkening sky.
"I just stopped being afraid of it."
The Men at Dry Creek
They left before sunrise.
Jonah rode first.
Elena rode beside him on one of the remaining horses.
The rest walked.
The children were carried when they became too tired.
By midmorning, the heat had become brutal.
Jonah watched the ground.
Tracks appeared in the dust.
Horse tracks.
Fresh.
He raised a hand.
Everyone stopped.
Elena looked at him.
"What?"
"Riders."
"How many?"
Jonah dismounted.
He touched the tracks.
"Six. Maybe eight."
"Apache?"
Jonah shook his head.
"Too heavy."
He scanned the ridge.
"White men."
A few warriors moved toward their rifles.
Jonah raised his hand.
"Wait."
The riders appeared twenty minutes later.
Eight men.
All armed.
At their center rode a broad man wearing a black hat.
Jonah recognized him.
Silas Crowe.
He owned the largest cattle operation in the region.
And the largest private well.
Crowe stopped his horse.
His eyes moved across the Apache group.
Then to Jonah.
"Reed."
"Silas."
Crowe smiled.
"I heard you were dead."
"Disappointed?"
"Not yet."
Crowe looked at Elena.
Then at Tomas.
"You're leading them?"
Tomas said nothing.
Crowe's smile disappeared.
"You can't cross Dry Creek."
Jonah glanced toward the dry riverbed.
"There hasn't been water there in months."
"You know what I mean."
Crowe pointed north.
"My land starts beyond that ridge."
Jonah replied, "We're not staying."
"Doesn't matter."
Crowe's men spread out.
Jonah counted seven rifles.
He could feel Elena tense beside him.
Crowe leaned forward.
"I've got cattle."
"I know."
"I've lost forty head this month."