He wondered what their mother had been like.
Tomas had not mentioned her.
By the time Ethan reached Cedar Ridge, the stars were out.
He watered Boone, checked the remaining horses, and entered the ranch house. The kitchen was dark except for the lamp he lit beside the stove.
His father's survey maps were stored in a locked cabinet in the study.
Ethan found the key beneath a loose floorboard, where Samuel had kept it for as long as Ethan could remember. He unlocked the cabinet and removed a leather folder.
Inside were deeds, receipts, old correspondence, and several maps folded so carefully that their edges had become soft.
He spread the documents across the table.
The survey he wanted was there.
It had been drawn nearly forty years earlier, when the territorial authorities were still attempting to establish reliable boundaries between ranches, public grazing lands, and Indigenous communities.
A red line marked the Dry River Valley.
Beside it, in faded handwriting, was a note identifying the spring as a shared water source reserved for the surrounding communities.
Ethan examined the seal.
It was genuine.
The document had been signed by the territorial surveyor and witnessed by three landowners, including his grandfather.
A separate page contained a list of recognized water rights.
The Apache settlement was named among them.
Ethan leaned back.
The company had not simply misunderstood the boundary.
Someone had created a false claim.
He gathered the documents and placed them inside a leather case. Then he opened another folder containing his father's correspondence.
One letter caught his attention.
It was addressed to Samuel Cole by a man named Nathaniel Voss, the founder of Frontier Water and Cattle Company.
The letter was dated two years earlier.
Voss had requested that Samuel sell a portion of Cedar Ridge, including a strip of land near the old Dry River crossing.
Samuel had refused.
The reply was brief.
He wrote that the land was not his to sell because the spring and surrounding valley were subject to shared-use rights.
Voss had responded with a threat disguised as a business proposal.
He suggested that Samuel reconsider before the railroad arrived, because landowners who refused to cooperate might discover that their holdings had become inconvenient to the interests of the territory.
Ethan read the letter twice.
Then he folded it carefully.
His father had known that something was coming.
Perhaps he had understood more than he had told Ethan.
Ethan spent the rest of the night reviewing the documents. By dawn, he had prepared a list of the witnesses who had signed the original survey and the names of the territorial officials who had approved it.
He also found a map showing the proposed railroad route.
The line passed directly through Dry River.
The spring was the key to everything.
Without water, the railroad could not establish a supply station. Without the valley, the company would have to find another route through the hills.
Ethan understood why Voss was willing to threaten an entire community.
The company was not simply interested in grazing land.
It was trying to control the future of the territory.
At sunrise, Ethan saddled Boone and prepared to leave.
Before mounting, he looked toward the ranch house.
His father had taught him to keep his promises.
He intended to keep this one.
When Ethan returned to Dry River, he found the settlement already awake.
Naya was standing near the entrance to the valley, watching the western ridge through a pair of field glasses.
Lena was distributing water and bread to the families. Sani stood beside a group of riders, checking the straps on their saddles.
Tomas rode toward Ethan.
“You came.”
“I said I would.”
Ethan dismounted and opened the leather case.
“I found the survey.”
Tomas's expression changed.
“Is it genuine?”
Ethan handed him the document.
Tomas examined the seal and ran his fingers along the faded boundary lines.
For several moments, he said nothing.
Then he looked up.
“This is the agreement our elders spoke of.”
“It confirms your rights to the spring. The company's lease is invalid if the document is accepted by the territorial authorities.”
Tomas passed the survey to Naya.
She examined it carefully.
“Can we use this to stop them?”
“We can try. But we need to make sure the company cannot destroy the evidence or claim that the survey is incomplete.”
Lena approached.
“Then we should make copies.”
Ethan nodded.
“I have a second set of notes. I also brought my father's correspondence with Nathaniel Voss.”
Tomas's eyes narrowed.
“Voss himself?”
“Yes.”
Ethan showed him the letter.
The chief read it slowly.
When he finished, he handed it to Naya.
“Now we understand why they are in such a hurry.”
Naya looked toward the western ridge.
“They know we will not leave willingly.”
“They believe they can force you to leave,” Ethan replied.
Sani came forward.
“Then we should make sure they understand that forcing us will cost them more than they expect.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Do you know how many men are coming?”
“Twenty, perhaps twenty-five. They have a wagon carrying supplies and ammunition.”
“Any rifles beyond what the riders carry?”
“Two men were seen unloading a heavy weapon yesterday.”
Ethan frowned.
“A cannon?”
“Perhaps. We could not get close enough to be certain.”
Tomas looked at his daughters.
“We must prepare.”
Naya handed the survey to Lena.
“I will take this to the elders. They should know what we have found.”
Lena nodded and hurried toward the shelters.
Sani turned to Ethan.
“You will need to see the eastern ridge.”
“Why?”
“Because if they attack from the west, they will try to block the road out of the valley. There is another path through the eastern pass. It is narrow, but horses can use it.”
Ethan glanced at the cliffs.
“Show me.”
Sani mounted her horse.
“Follow me.”
They rode through a narrow passage between two red rock walls. The trail climbed gradually, then opened onto a ledge overlooking the valley.
From there, Ethan could see the settlement, the spring, and the western ridge.
Sani pointed toward a break in the rocks.
“That is the eastern pass. It leads to a dry creek bed that runs north toward your ranch.”
Ethan studied the terrain.
A wagon could not pass through the narrowest section, but mounted riders could travel it single file.
“How many people know about this path?”
“Everyone in the settlement.”
“Does the company?”
“I don't think so.”
Ethan nodded.
“Then it may be our safest route if we need to move the families.”
Sani looked at him.
“You are already planning for us to leave?”
“I am planning for every possibility.”
She considered that.
“Good.”
They rode farther along the ridge.
Below them, several Apache riders were moving supplies away from the western side of the settlement. Women and children were carrying water into the shelters, while the older men gathered near Tomas.
Ethan watched the activity.
“You have done this before.”
Sani's expression became serious.
“Not like this.”
“Have you ever fought?”
“Yes.”
Ethan waited.
She looked toward the distant hills.
“When I was seventeen, a group of armed men came into our camp. They claimed we had stolen cattle. They wanted to take our horses and force my father to pay a fine.”
“What happened?”
“We refused.”
Sani's voice remained calm, but Ethan could hear the memory in it.
“One of the men fired at my uncle. My father ordered us to move the children into the hills. The men followed. We fought until they retreated.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No.”
“Your family?”
“My uncle died.”
Ethan looked at her.
“I am sorry.”
Sani nodded.
“He was a good man. He taught me to ride.”
For a while, neither spoke.
Then she turned toward Ethan.
“That is why I will not leave this valley without a fight. Not because I want war, but because I know what happens when people believe they can take whatever they want.”