"Your father came here during the last great drought."
Ethan sat again.
"When?"
"Three months before he died."
Ethan remembered that summer.
He had been twenty-four.
His father had returned from a trip west looking exhausted.
He had said almost nothing.
Two weeks later, he had suffered a heart attack.
At the time, Ethan had thought grief and exhaustion had simply caught up with him.
Now he wasn't so sure.
"What happened here?"
Tomas looked toward the darkness.
"Your father discovered that men were planning to take the spring."
"Mercer?"
"Not then."
"Who?"
Tomas shook his head.
"Some are dead. Some disappeared. Some still have sons."
Ethan understood.
"This isn't about water."
"It is always about water."
A sound came from the darkness.
A horse.
Tomas grabbed his rifle.
Ethan stood.
Both men listened.
Another horse.
Then another.
Tomas whispered.
"They came back."
Ethan moved toward the ridge.
He saw riders silhouetted against the moon.
Six.
No.
Eight.
And at the center rode a man in a black coat.
Even at a distance, Ethan recognized him.
Caleb Mercer.
Mercer stopped at the edge of the valley.
His voice carried through the darkness.
"Ethan!"
Ethan stepped forward.
Mercer smiled.
"I heard you were looking for your horses."
Ethan said nothing.
Mercer glanced toward the spring.
"Looks like you found something much more valuable."
The Man Who Owned the Valley
Caleb Mercer was sixty years old and looked like a man who had never been told no.
He wore a black felt hat, polished boots, and a silver watch chain across his vest. His clothes were expensive without being flashy.
His men were different.
They looked like hired guns.
Ethan counted eight.
Mercer looked at him.
"You've grown."
Ethan almost laughed.
"That happens."
"You were a boy the last time I saw you."
"I remember."
"You used to ride behind your father."
"I remember that too."
Mercer's smile faded.
"Your father was a stubborn man."
"He was."
"Stubborn men rarely live comfortably."
Ethan stepped closer.
"Why are you here?"
Mercer gestured toward the valley.
"Business."
"This isn't your land."
"Not yet."
Tomas appeared beside Ethan.
Mercer's eyes moved toward him.
"Tomas."
"Mercer."
The two men stared at each other.
There was history there.
Bad history.
Mercer finally spoke.
"You're protecting something that belongs to the future."
Tomas answered calmly.
"Water belongs to the living."
Mercer smiled.
"That sounds noble."
"It is."
Mercer's smile disappeared.
"Then perhaps you don't understand the law."
Ethan stepped between them.
"The law doesn't give you ownership of a spring because you want it."
"No."
Mercer looked at Ethan.
"But it can give me the land surrounding it."
"How?"
"Through purchase."
"From whom?"
Mercer nodded toward the southern ridge.
"Three families have already agreed to sell."
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
"Families who don't live here."
"They own land here."
"That doesn't make the water yours."
"No."
Mercer took a slow breath.
"But if I control the valley, I control access to the water."
Ethan realized the plan.
Mercer didn't need to own the spring.
He only needed to own everything around it.
He could build fences.
Roads.
Gates.
Pipelines.
He could charge people for access.
Or deny it.
"You're going to close the valley."
"I'm going to develop it."
"Same thing."
Mercer laughed softly.
"Your father used to speak exactly like that."
Ethan froze.
"What did you say?"
Mercer leaned forward.
"Your father knew this place."
"How?"
"He helped me search for it."
Silence.
Ethan's face hardened.
"You're lying."
"Am I?"
Tomas looked at Mercer.
"You know what happened."
Mercer ignored him.
"Your father believed he could keep the spring hidden. He thought secrecy was protection."
"What happened?"
Mercer's expression became colder.
"He trusted the wrong men."
Ethan's hand tightened around his revolver.
"Who?"
Mercer smiled.
"Ask your father."
"He died."
"I know."
The cruelty in the answer made Ethan take one step forward.
Mercer immediately raised a hand.
His men lifted their rifles.
Tomas spoke quietly.
"Do not."
Ethan stopped.
Mercer smiled.
"Tomorrow morning, I will return with surveyors."
"You'll return to find me waiting."
"Good."
Mercer turned his horse.
Then he stopped.
"Oh, Ethan?"
Ethan looked up.
"Your horses came here because they smelled water."
Mercer glanced toward the spring.
"Imagine what cattle will do."