“Not enough.”
A second woman stepped forward.
Then another.
A man whose wife Ayana had helped during childbirth bowed his head.
A young mother thanked her for staying through her son's fever.
Children gathered around her.
One little girl slipped her hand into Ayana's.
“Will you still teach us the plants tomorrow?”
Ayana began to cry.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Of course.”
Nathaniel stood at the edge of the firelight.
He watched the community finally acknowledge what had been visible all along.
And he understood something important.
Ayana had never needed him to make her valuable.
She had always been valuable.
What she had needed was for people to stop pretending otherwise.
The following morning, Clara Finch began surveying the eastern springs.
Nathaniel accompanied her with Koda and six riders.
They carried the historic map and measuring equipment.
The work was slow.
Clara marked landmarks, recorded distances, and compared the natural course of the water with both surveys.
By midday, she had identified three major discrepancies.
“The altered map is not merely inaccurate,” she said. “Someone deliberately moved the watercourse.”
Nathaniel looked at the marks.
“Can you prove it?”
“Yes.”
“How certain?”
She pointed toward a limestone formation.
“This ridge hasn't moved. The survey claims water flows through it. Unless Hargrove has discovered a way to make streams pass through solid rock, he's going to have difficulty explaining that.”
Koda laughed.
It was the first time Nathaniel had heard him laugh freely.
Then a rider appeared on the southern trail.
He approached with a white cloth tied to his rifle.
Nathaniel recognized him immediately.
One of Hargrove's men.
The rider stopped a short distance away.
“I have a message.”
Nathaniel stepped forward.
“Speak.”
“Mr. Hargrove requests a meeting.”
Koda tightened his grip on his rifle.
Nathaniel remained calm.
“Where?”
“His ranch. Tomorrow at noon.”
“Why?”
“To settle this matter without further bloodshed.”
Nathaniel looked toward Clara.
Then back at the rider.
“Tell him any proposal can be delivered in writing through the attorney.”
The man shifted uneasily.
“He said you'd understand.”
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed.
“Understand what?”
The rider reached into his coat.
Koda raised his rifle.
“Slowly.”
The man withdrew a small object wrapped in cloth.
He tossed it onto the ground.
Nathaniel picked it up.
Inside was a silver pocket watch.
He recognized it.
Samuel Price's watch.
The young ranch hand murdered at Hargrove's property.
Nathaniel's face went pale.
A folded note accompanied it.
Come alone, or the truth about Samuel dies with me.
Nathaniel looked up.
The rider had already turned his horse.
“Tell Hargrove,” Nathaniel called, “that I'll be there.”
Koda spun toward him.
“Are you insane?”
Nathaniel stared at the watch.
“Possibly.”
Clara looked concerned.
“Mr. Brooks, this is clearly a trap.”
“Yes.”
“Then why go?”
Nathaniel closed his fingers around the watch.
“Because Samuel Price was nineteen years old when he died. And I promised his mother I'd find out who killed him.”
That evening, Nathaniel told Ayana about the meeting.
She listened without speaking.
When he finished, she stood.
“No.”
He sighed.
“Ayana—”
“No.”
“I have to go.”
“You have to walk into a trap?”
“I have to face Hargrove.”
“Why?”
“Because I've spent years running from what happened at that ranch.”
She stared at him.
“And you think dying will make it right?”
Nathaniel looked away.
Ayana stepped closer.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“You told me a debt shouldn't be repaid with someone's life.”
“I remember.”
“Then why are you offering yours?”
He had no answer.
Her eyes filled.
“Samuel deserved justice. Your sister deserved a life. Your mother deserved more years. But none of them would want you to throw away the life you still have.”
Nathaniel swallowed.
“I was responsible for Samuel.”
“No.”
“I was his foreman. I knew Hargrove was dangerous. I should have protected him.”
“You cannot protect every person from every evil.”
“I could have tried harder.”
“And perhaps you could have,” she said gently. “But you are not responsible for the choices of the man who killed him.”
Nathaniel stared at her.
The words struck something deep inside him.
For years, he had carried guilt like a stone in his chest.
He had never allowed himself to put it down.
Ayana took his hands.
“If you go, go because you have a plan. Not because you believe you deserve to be punished.”
He closed his eyes.
Then he pulled her into his arms.
“I don't know how you do that.”
“What?”
“Find the truth in things I'm afraid to look at.”
She rested her head against his chest.
“Perhaps because you did the same for me.”
They stood together in silence.
Then Nathaniel whispered, “I love you.”
Ayana went still.
He felt her breath catch.
“I didn't mean to say it like that,” he added.
She leaned back.
“How did you mean to say it?”
He gave a helpless smile.
“Probably somewhere with flowers. And fewer people trying to kill us.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“Nathaniel…”
“I love you,” he repeated. “Not because you're perfect. Not because I'm trying to save you. I love the woman who argues with me about fences, insults my carpentry, and risks her life for people who don't always appreciate her.”
She laughed through her tears.
“I love the way you care for the children. The way you know this land. The way you refuse to let fear decide what you're allowed to become.”
His voice softened.
“And I love you because when I'm with you, staying no longer feels like something to fear.”
Ayana stared at him.
For a long moment, she could not speak.
Then she touched his face.
“I love you too.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
She kissed him.
When they parted, he pressed his forehead against hers.
“Then I suppose I'd better survive tomorrow.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “You had better.”
Nathaniel did not go to Hargrove's ranch alone.
He went without an armed escort, as requested.
But Thomas Reed had already prepared sworn statements regarding Samuel's death, while Clara Finch completed her survey and Judge Whitcomb sent notice to a federal official outside Hargrove's influence.
Koda and several riders positioned themselves along the distant ridge—not to ambush anyone, but to witness what happened.
Ayana insisted on accompanying Nathaniel as far as the valley entrance.
They stopped beneath a large cottonwood tree.
She handed him a small leather pouch.
“What is it?”
“Something for luck.”
He opened it.
Inside lay the little wooden horse he had carved for her.
Nathaniel stared.
“Ayana…”
“Bring it back.”
He looked at her.
“You don't want to keep it?”
“I want you to return it to me.”
He smiled faintly.
“That's a dangerous bargain.”
“Then don't break it.”
Nathaniel placed the horse inside his coat.
He leaned forward and kissed her.
Then he mounted Whiskey and rode toward Hargrove's ranch.
The property looked exactly as he remembered.
Long cattle pens.