Ethan fired once.
One rider fell.
The others scattered.
Tomas moved through the darkness like a shadow.
Mara was beside Ethan.
“You are bleeding.”
“Not mine.”
She looked at his sleeve.
A bullet had grazed his arm.
“That's yours.”
Ethan looked.
“It's nothing.”
Mara tore cloth from her scarf.
“Hold still.”
He did.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Mara said quietly:
“You don't have to keep helping us.”
Ethan looked toward the ridge.
“I know.”
“Then why?”
He thought about his father.
About the survey.
About a spring that had survived drought for generations.
“Because someone is trying to steal something that belongs to all of us.”
Mara tied the bandage.
“And if they kill you?”
Ethan gave a tired smile.
“Then they'll have to explain why.”
She almost laughed.
It was the first time Ethan had heard it.
The sound surprised him.
By sunrise, the attackers were gone.
But they had left something behind.
A dead horse.
Its saddle carried a company brand.
And beneath the saddle was a letter.
The hearing will be held in five days.
Ethan looked at Tomas.
“We have five days.”
Tomas nodded.
“To do what?”
“Find the original survey.”
The Road to Julesburg
Ethan and Mara left the following morning.
Tomas wanted to send two armed men with them.
Ethan refused.
“Too many riders attract attention.”
Mara mounted her mare.
“You attract attention by yourself.”
Ethan looked at her.
“I've been told that.”
They rode north.
The journey was difficult.
Twice they saw company riders in the distance.
Once they hid beneath a rocky shelf while six men passed.
At night they camped beside a dry creek.
Mara asked Ethan about his father.
“He was stubborn.”
“So are you.”
“I learned from him.”
“Did he trust people?”
Ethan thought.
“Not easily.”
“Do you?”
“Not easily.”
Mara looked into the fire.
“Then why did you trust Tomas?”
“I didn't.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I trusted what I saw.”
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
By the third day they reached Julesburg.
The archive was housed inside an old brick building behind the courthouse.
The clerk searched for the survey.
Nothing.
Then Mara noticed a locked cabinet.
“What is that?”
“Old territorial records.”
Ethan found a key in the desk.
The cabinet opened.
Inside were dozens of maps.
And at the bottom—
the original Dry River survey.
Ethan unfolded it.
Everything matched his father's copy.
The water rights were protected.
The company's lease was fraudulent.
But there was more.
A second document had been attached to the survey.
A sworn statement from a territorial surveyor.
It named Thomas Grady.
The statement said Grady had attempted to alter the boundary.
Ethan felt a chill.
“This can end him.”
Mara shook her head.
“Only if we reach the hearing.”
They returned to the street.
A gunshot shattered a window above them.
Ethan grabbed Mara and pulled her behind a wagon.
Another bullet struck the wall.
“Run!”
They sprinted through the alley.
Three men chased them.
One shouted:
“Burn the papers!”
Mara held the survey beneath her coat.
Ethan drew his revolver.
The chase lasted six blocks.
They escaped only because a freight wagon blocked the alley.
That evening they left Julesburg.
But Ethan understood something now.
They had the evidence.
The company knew it.
And five days had become four.
The Night the Ranch Burned
They returned to Cedar Ridge after dark.
Smoke filled the air.
Ethan stopped his horse.
“No.”
The ranch house was burning.
Silas stood in the yard with a rifle.
The barns were untouched.
Only the house had been targeted.
Ethan rode forward.
“Silas!”
The older man turned.
“You're alive.”
“Who did this?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Safe.”
Ethan dismounted.
His eyes searched the flames.
His father's study was gone.
The iron chest had been destroyed.
Everything inside it had burned.
Except one thing.
The letter Ethan had carried with him.
He touched the folded paper in his pocket.
Then he saw something nailed to the fence.
A message.
Leave Dry River.