The amounts were enormous.
Beside several payments were descriptions:
Burn barn.
Kill livestock.
Blame Apache.
Force evacuation.
Caleb looked at Yuma.
“This is enough.”
Yuma shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“We need the original seal.”
Caleb frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Rusk will say the ledger is fake.”
Yuma pointed toward a drawer.
“His private seal is there.”
Caleb opened it.
The seal was inside.
So was a letter.
Caleb read it.
His face became pale.
The letter was from a territorial official.
It promised Rusk protection.
It promised military assistance.
And it promised that once the valley was cleared, Rusk would control every major water source.
Caleb folded the letter.
“We have them.”
Yuma nodded.
“No.”
Caleb looked at him.
Yuma pointed toward the window.
Riders.
Dozens.
They had been discovered.
Rusk's men surrounded the ranch.
A voice shouted:
“COME OUT!”
Caleb smiled grimly.
“Every time I meet your people, they shoot at me.”
Yuma laughed.
“Perhaps you are unlucky.”
Caleb loaded his rifle.
“Perhaps.”
He looked at the letter.
“Let's get home.”
THE BATTLE OF BLACKWATER
The battle lasted until sunrise.
Caleb and Yuma escaped through a drainage tunnel.
They rode north.
Behind them, Rusk's men followed.
By dawn, the chase had become a war.
The Apache warriors emerged from the hills.
Rusk's men fired.
The valley filled with smoke.
Caleb found himself riding alongside men he once would have called enemies.
Now they were brothers in battle.
Tomas rode beside him.
“Where is the evidence?”
Caleb held the sealed letter inside his coat.
“Safe.”
Tomas nodded.
“Then we must keep you alive.”
They fought their way toward Blackwater town.
The townspeople were terrified.
Rusk had told them Apache warriors were coming.
Instead, they saw Caleb riding at the front.
Behind him came Apache warriors.
The sheriff's widow stepped into the street.
She stared at Caleb.
“What's happening?”
Caleb dismounted.
“Rusk lied.”
He handed her the ledger.
She read.
Her hands began to shake.
“My husband knew.”
Caleb nodded.
“He tried to stop him.”
She looked toward the burning remains of the jail.
“He killed him.”
A shot rang out.
Rusk appeared at the end of the street.
He held a revolver.
“You think paper will save you?”
Caleb turned.
Rusk raised his weapon.
Yuma stepped between them.
Rusk fired.
Yuma fell.
Caleb shouted.
“YUMA!”
He ran.
Yuma was on his knees.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Rusk smiled.
“You should have let him die in the creek.”
Caleb slowly stood.
Something inside him changed.
He raised his rifle.
Rusk fired again.
Caleb fired first.
Rusk's revolver flew from his hand.
He fell to his knees.
The town went silent.
Caleb walked toward him.
Rusk looked up.
“Kill me.”
Caleb shook his head.
“No.”
“You have every reason.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Caleb looked at the people watching.
“Because I want everyone to hear you admit what you did.”
Rusk laughed.
“You think anyone will believe you?”
The sheriff's widow stepped forward.
“I will.”
Another rancher came forward.
“So will I.”
Then another.
Then another.
One by one, the people Rusk had threatened began speaking.
The truth spread.
By noon, Rusk's empire was collapsing.
The territorial official who had supported him fled.
His gunmen surrendered.
His cattle company was seized.
And the land he had planned to steal was placed under legal protection.
Yuma survived.
The bullet had passed through his shoulder.
When he woke, Caleb was sitting beside him.
Yuma opened one eye.
“Did we win?”
Caleb nodded.
“You're terrible at staying alive.”
Yuma smiled.
“You gave me water.”
“And?”
“I keep telling you.”
“What?”