"Apparently everyone knows me."
Tomas looked toward the eastern ridge.
"Your father knew us."
Ethan's expression changed.
"My father?"
Tomas nodded.
"Samuel Cole came here many times."
Ethan stared at him.
His father had never mentioned Apache families living near Dry River.
Not once.
"Why?"
Tomas looked at the spring.
"Water."
Ethan waited.
Tomas continued.
"Your father knew this place was ours."
Ethan glanced toward the water.
"How long?"
"My grandfather's grandfather drank from this spring."
"And the government?"
Tomas gave a bitter smile.
"The government gave the land to men who never saw it."
A bullet struck the wagon.
The little girl screamed.
Ethan fired toward the ridge.
A man disappeared behind a rock.
"Stay down!" Ethan shouted.
He turned to Tomas.
"How many?"
"At least fifteen."
"More coming?"
Tomas nodded.
"They want the spring."
Ethan looked at the water.
It was barely more than a stream.
But in a drought, it might as well have been gold.
"How long until dark?"
"Five hours."
Ethan calculated.
Five hours.
Fifteen armed men.
Twenty-three Apache civilians.
Three horses.
One rancher.
One spring.
The odds were terrible.
But Ethan had spent most of his life dealing with terrible odds.
He crawled toward the wagons.
Tomas followed.
"You don't have to stay," Tomas said.
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
Ethan looked at the children.
"Because those men are shooting at people."
Tomas studied him.
"You think they will stop?"
"No."
"Then you will fight?"
Ethan looked toward the ridge.
"I suppose I will."
Tomas's expression softened.
"Your father said the same thing."
Ethan looked sharply at him.
"What exactly did my father say?"
Tomas didn't answer immediately.
Then he reached inside his coat.
He pulled out a small leather pouch.
From it he removed an old brass compass.
Ethan recognized it instantly.
His father's compass.
Ethan had searched for it after Samuel died.
He thought it had been buried with him.
Tomas held it out.
"Your father left this here."
Ethan stared at the compass.
"Why?"
Tomas looked at him.
"Because he knew someday his son would return."
What Samuel Cole Knew
Ethan barely slept that night.
The fighting had stopped after sunset.
Silas Vane's men had retreated to the ridge, but they had not left.
They were waiting.
So was Ethan.
He sat beside the spring while the moon climbed over the cliffs.
Tomas sat across from him.
For a long time neither man spoke.
Finally Ethan held up the compass.
"When did my father give you this?"
"Four years ago."
"The year he died."
Tomas nodded.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You were not ready."
Ethan frowned.
"Ready for what?"
Tomas looked toward the sleeping camp.
"For the truth."
Ethan almost laughed.
"My father was a rancher."
"He was more than that."
"He never told me."
"Because he wanted you to live."
Ethan leaned forward.
"What was he involved in?"
Tomas was silent.
Then he said:
"Your father discovered Holloway's plan."
"What plan?"
"To take the valley."
Ethan stared.
Tomas explained that years earlier, a survey team had discovered that the spring beneath Dry River was far larger than anyone realized.
Water flowed underground from the mountains.
Enough to support thousands of cattle.
Enough to transform the valley.
Holloway had learned about it.
But there was a problem.
The land wasn't legally his.
And the Apache families had lived there long before any ranch boundary had been drawn.
So Holloway had begun creating a paper trail.
Old claims.
False surveys.
Forged signatures.
Bought witnesses.
Missing documents.
And when that failed, he used violence.
Ethan shook his head.
"Why didn't my father go to the authorities?"
"He did."
"And?"
"They were already paid."
Ethan looked at the dark ridge.
"Vane?"
Tomas nodded.
"Among others."
The pieces began fitting together.
The missing horses.
The smoke.
The wagon tracks.
The armed men.
The sudden interest in Dry River.
Holloway wasn't simply trying to buy Cedar Ridge.
He wanted Ethan gone.
If Ethan died in an attack while supposedly defending the ranch from Apache raiders, nobody would ask too many questions.
Ethan's stomach tightened.
"What happened to my father?"
Tomas looked away.
"Your father was killed."
"I know that."
"No."
Tomas's voice became quiet.