Ethan felt his stomach drop.
"Where?"
Daniel looked at the red circle on the map.
"Dry River."
Ethan suddenly understood.
This wasn't about three missing horses.
It wasn't even about water.
Someone had discovered a resource beneath the valley that could make millions.
And they intended to control it before anyone else knew it existed.
Daniel put his hat back on.
"You need to stay away from Dry River."
Ethan folded the map.
"Can't do that."
"Ethan."
"My horses were taken there."
"They're back."
"Someone shot at me."
"I know."
"Then I'm already involved."
Daniel looked at him for several seconds.
Finally, he said:
"Then be careful who you trust."
He left.
Nora watched the sheriff drive away.
"Do you trust him?"
Ethan looked at the map.
"No."
Outside, thunder rolled across the distant mountains.
But there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
Ethan looked toward Dry River.
Somewhere beneath the dead valley, water was moving.
And somewhere above it, men were preparing to fight over it.
THE MAN WHO REMEMBERED
The next morning, Ethan visited the oldest person in Cedar Ridge.
Walter Boone was ninety-one.
He lived alone in a weathered house at the edge of town.
Walter had been a surveyor.
He had mapped half the county before Ethan was born.
When Ethan arrived, Walter was sitting beneath a cottonwood tree repairing an old pocket watch.
"You look troubled," Walter said.
"You always say that."
"Because you always look troubled."
Ethan sat beside him.
"Tell me about Dry River."
Walter's hands stopped moving.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he closed the pocket watch.
"I wondered when someone would ask."
"What do you know?"
"Enough to know you shouldn't be asking."
"My father knew."
Walter looked at him.
"Samuel told you?"
"No. He never explained."
"He wouldn't."
"Why?"
Walter sighed.
"Because your father was afraid."
Ethan had never heard anyone describe Samuel Cole that way.
Afraid.
His father had seemed incapable of fear.
"What happened?"
Walter looked toward the mountains.
"In 1979, Dry River flooded."
"I know."
"No. You know the story they tell."
Walter leaned forward.
"That year, the rain came down for six straight days. The river rose so quickly that the entire valley disappeared under water."
"What happened afterward?"
"The river changed."
"Changed how?"
"It found another route."
Walter took a stick and drew a line in the dirt.
"Water always seeks the easiest path. When the old channel collapsed, the water went underground."
"How deep?"
"We didn't know."
"Didn't you survey it?"
"We tried."
Walter's expression darkened.
"Three men went into the canyon."
"And?"
"Only one came back."
Ethan swallowed.
"Who?"
"Your father."
Silence settled between them.
"My father never told me."
"He wouldn't."
"What happened to the others?"
Walter looked at him.
"They found something."
"What?"
"An underground chamber."
Ethan's pulse quickened.
"With water?"
"With more than water."
Walter stood slowly and went inside.
A few minutes later, he returned carrying a metal box.
He placed it in Ethan's hands.
"Your father left this with me."
Ethan stared at him.
"Why?"
"He said I should give it to you when you were ready."
"Ready for what?"
Walter smiled sadly.
"To understand why men kill for things they don't own."
Inside the box was an old notebook.
Ethan opened it.
Samuel's handwriting filled the pages.
Measurements.
Drawings.
Maps.
And finally, one sentence written across an entire page:
THE WATER IS CONNECTED TO THE VALLEY'S AQUIFER. IF SOMEONE PUMPS TOO MUCH, CEDAR RIDGE WILL DRY WITH IT.
Ethan stared at the words.
Suddenly everything made sense.
Red Mesa wasn't simply stealing water from Dry River.
They were planning to drain an underground aquifer.
And Cedar Ridge depended on that same water system.
If they succeeded, Ethan's ranch could become worthless within a few years.
Walter pointed to another page.
"There."
Ethan found a hand-drawn diagram.
A large underground cavern.
Beneath it, several branching channels.
At the bottom was a note.
OLD MINE SHAFT — ACCESS FROM EAST RIDGE.
"Where is this shaft?" Ethan asked.
Walter's expression changed.
"Buried."
"Where?"
"On Red Mesa land."
Ethan stood.
"That's why they're there."
"Yes."
"They found the shaft."
"Likely."
Ethan closed the notebook.
Walter grabbed his wrist.
"Listen to me."
Ethan stopped.
"You are not your father."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
Walter's eyes were unusually sharp.
"Your father spent twenty years trying to protect that water. He believed knowledge was enough."
"Wasn't it?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because men with money don't fear knowledge."
Walter released him.
"They fear evidence."
Ethan understood.
He needed proof.
Not suspicion.
Not stories.