An original territorial survey.
Dry River was clearly marked as common grazing land.
The spring was designated a protected water source.
Ethan stared at the document.
Then he found something else.
A letter.
His father's handwriting.
If anyone ever tries to change the Dry River boundary, look for the original survey filed in Julesburg. The copy in the county office may not be the true one.
Ethan read it twice.
Then a third time.
His father had suspected this long before he died.
A knock came at the door.
Silas entered.
“You have a visitor.”
“Who?”
“A lawyer.”
Ethan frowned.
“What does he want?”
“He says he's representing the Frontier Water and Cattle Company.”
Ethan folded the letter.
“Send him in.”
The lawyer entered wearing a black coat far too expensive for Cedar Ridge.
His name was Marcus Bell.
He smiled.
“Mr. Cole.”
“Mr. Bell.”
“I've come to offer you a peaceful solution.”
“To what?”
“The water dispute.”
“I don't have a dispute.”
“You will.”
Bell placed a document on the desk.
“Sell us the eastern grazing rights.”
“No.”
“You haven't heard the price.”
“I don't care.”
Bell's smile disappeared.
“You are surrounded by people who need water.”
“So are you.”
“Your ranch is small.”
“It is mine.”
“Everything is temporary in this territory.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“Is that a threat?”
Bell stood.
“No.”
He picked up his hat.
“It is advice.”
After he left, Silas looked at Ethan.
“You should take the money.”
“No.”
“They could destroy the ranch.”
Ethan stared through the window toward the dark western hills.
“My father spent twenty years keeping that land.”
Silas sighed.
“And now?”
“Now I'm going to find out why he warned me.”
The Man Who Sold the Water
Two days later Ethan rode into the nearest territorial town.
He went directly to the land office.
The clerk, an elderly man named Walter Price, recognized the survey immediately.
“I haven't seen that document in years.”
“Where is the original?”
Price looked uncomfortable.
“Official records are kept in the county archive.”
“That's not what I asked.”
The old man lowered his voice.
“The original disappeared.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Who signed for it?”
Price hesitated.
“Thomas Grady.”
Ethan knew the name.
Grady was the regional manager of the Frontier Water and Cattle Company.
He had also been a deputy territorial surveyor years earlier.
Ethan returned to Cedar Ridge before sunset.
But he did not go home.
He went to Dry River.
Tomas was waiting.
Ethan told him what he had discovered.
Tomas listened carefully.
“So the paper is false.”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove it?”
“I can prove the boundaries were changed.”
“Not who changed them.”
“No.”
Mara approached.
She carried a small leather pouch.
“My father found this near the burned gate.”
She opened it.
Inside was a brass key.
Ethan recognized it.
“Where did you get this?”
“Near the creek.”
He turned it over.
Stamped into the metal were two letters.
T.G.
Thomas Grady.
Ethan's stomach tightened.
“This isn't enough.”
“No,” Mara said.
“But it tells us where to look.”
That night they discovered an abandoned pump house farther upstream.
Inside was a ledger.
It contained payments.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Men had been paid to divert water, move boundary markers, frighten settlers, and spread rumors about Apache cattle raids.
The final pages were more disturbing.
One entry read:
Dry River families must be removed before the survey hearing.
Another:
Cole remains resistant. Apply pressure to ranch.
Ethan stared at the words.
“They're targeting my ranch.”
Tomas shook his head.
“No.”
He pointed at the next line.
“They are targeting everyone.”
Three Riders
The attack came before dawn.
Ethan heard the first gunshot while sleeping beside the pump house.
He rolled behind a stone wall.
Bullets struck the timber.
Tomas shouted from outside.
“Stay down!”
Three riders appeared along the ridge.
Then five.
Then eight.
They were not Apache.
They wore no uniforms.
But their horses were branded with the mark of Frontier Water and Cattle.