“For how long?”
“Seven years.”
Her expression changed.
“You worked for Hargrove?”
Nathaniel nodded.
“He's not a good man.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Nathaniel looked at her.
“Because when I first met him, I didn't.”
He explained that Hargrove had hired him after a difficult winter left him nearly penniless.
At first, the rancher appeared generous.
He paid wages on time.
He helped injured workers.
He spoke often about loyalty and opportunity.
Nathaniel rose quickly through the ranch hierarchy.
Within five years, he supervised dozens of riders and thousands of cattle.
He believed he had finally found a place where his work mattered.
Then he began noticing things.
Cattle brands altered after dark.
Freight wagons moving without records.
Ranch hands paid extra to intimidate small landowners.
Families who refused to sell their property suddenly discovered that their wells had been damaged or their livestock stolen.
Nathaniel confronted Hargrove.
The rancher laughed.
“That's business, Brooks. The West belongs to men willing to take it.”
Nathaniel threatened to resign.
Hargrove offered him more money.
Nathaniel refused.
Two weeks later, a young ranch hand named Samuel Price was found dead beside a creek.
Officially, it was a riding accident.
But Samuel had discovered evidence that Hargrove's men were stealing cattle from neighboring properties.
Nathaniel knew the boy had been murdered.
He began collecting records.
And eventually, he discovered a locked ledger documenting payments to armed men, corrupt officials, and land agents.
He stole it.
Or tried to.
Hargrove discovered him before he could escape.
There was a confrontation in the ranch office.
Gunfire.
A broken window.
Nathaniel managed to ride away with several pages torn from the ledger, but a bullet struck him in the side.
Hargrove sent riders after him.
Nathaniel lost them in the mountains.
Then his horse collapsed.
The next thing he remembered was Ayana's healing shelter.
She listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she asked, “Where are the pages?”
He touched the inside of his coat.
“Safe.”
“Do they mention our valley?”
Nathaniel hesitated.
“Yes.”
Ayana felt a chill.
“What do they say?”
“That Hargrove paid a surveyor to change the boundaries of several land claims. One of the altered maps includes the eastern water source here.”
Her face hardened.
“The springs.”
He nodded.
“Hargrove wants control of them.”
For several moments, she said nothing.
Then she stood.
“My father needs to know.”
“He does.”
“Tonight.”
Nathaniel caught her wrist gently.
“Ayana.”
She looked down at his hand.
He released her immediately.
“Hargrove won't stop because we expose one piece of paper,” he said. “He's dangerous. And if he knows I'm here, he'll come.”
“Then we should prepare.”
“You don't understand.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Don't tell me what I understand.”
Nathaniel fell silent.
Ayana stepped closer.
“People have been trying to drive our families from this valley for years. We have watched promises disappear, boundaries move, and men arrive carrying documents that say land we've lived on no longer belongs to us. Do you think I don't understand danger?”
“No.”
“Then don't speak as if you're the first man to bring trouble to our doorstep.”
Her anger struck him harder than he expected.
He lowered his head.
“You're right.”
Ayana took a breath.
For a moment, the only sound was the river.
Then she said, “Tell my father everything.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“I will.”
“And Nathaniel?”
He looked up.
“If you came here because you needed somewhere to hide, understand something.”
“What?”
“We are not hiding.”
The meeting that followed lasted until midnight.
Tavish listened carefully as Nathaniel explained what he knew of Hargrove's operations.
Several men argued that the cowboy should leave immediately.
Others believed the documents could protect their land.
A younger man named Koda, who had never trusted Nathaniel, stood abruptly.
“How do we know this isn't a trick?”
Nathaniel faced him.
“You don't.”
The answer surprised everyone.
Koda narrowed his eyes.
“You expect us to believe you?”
“I expect you to decide based on what I can prove.”
“And what can you prove?”
Nathaniel unfolded the pages.
They were stained with blood and creased from days of travel.
He placed them on a flat stone near the fire.
“These are payment records. Dates. Names. Amounts. And here…”
He pointed to a line.
“Red Willow boundary survey.”
Tavish leaned forward.
A second document listed a payment to a territorial land clerk.
The sum was large enough to buy an entire herd of cattle.
Koda stared at the paper.
“What does this mean?”
“It means Hargrove is buying the law before he uses it against you,” Nathaniel replied.
The old leader examined the signatures.
Then he looked at his daughter.
Ayana had been studying the map.
“There's something wrong,” she said.
Nathaniel turned.
“What?”
“The creek is drawn on the wrong side of the ridge.”
He examined it.
She pointed toward a narrow passage between two hills.
“This survey shows the eastern spring flowing directly into Miller's Creek.”
“Doesn't it?”
“No. There's a limestone ridge between them. The spring flows south, toward the old mission.”
Nathaniel frowned.
“How do you know?”
“My grandmother took me there when I was a child. We gathered plants near the water.”
Solan leaned closer.
“She is right.”
Tavish's expression tightened.
“The old mission.”
A silence followed.
Nathaniel noticed it immediately.
“What about the mission?”
The old leader looked toward the darkness.
“Many years ago, before most of the people here were born, there was an agreement concerning the land and the water. A missionary kept records of it.”
“What agreement?”
Tavish shook his head.
“People who knew the details are dead.”
“Were the papers preserved?”
“We were told the mission burned.”
Ayana frowned.
“Not all of it.”
Everyone turned toward her.
“The main building burned,” she said. “But the stone storage room remained standing. Grandmother took me there once.”
Nathaniel stared at her.
“Could there be records?”
“I don't know.”
Tavish stood slowly.
“Then we must find out.”
The following morning, Nathaniel and Ayana rode toward the abandoned mission.
Koda insisted on accompanying them.
So did Solan.
The journey took nearly five hours through rocky country where the mountains rose sharply on either side of narrow washes.
They traveled beneath a cloudless sky.
Nathaniel rode beside Ayana, who guided her horse with quiet confidence.
He had noticed that animals trusted her.
Even difficult horses calmed when she approached.
At one point, his own gelding, Whiskey, tried to pull toward a patch of grass growing beside a steep ledge.
Ayana clicked her tongue.
The horse stopped immediately.
Nathaniel stared.
“He doesn't listen to me that quickly.”
“Perhaps he understands who gives better instructions.”
“He's becoming disloyal.”
“Perhaps he's becoming wise.”
Koda, riding ahead, muttered something under his breath.
Nathaniel ignored him.
By midday, they reached the remains of the mission.