Naya nodded.
"Yes."
Corvin looked again at the approaching riders.
"Then we're both being used."
For the first time, Naya smiled.
A very small smile.
"Now you understand."
The riders arrived just after sunrise.
Harlan Vance rode at the center.
He was dressed in a black coat despite the heat.
His silver watch chain gleamed.
Behind him were thirty armed men.
Some wore cattle-company badges.
Others wore no badges at all.
Vance stopped outside the fence.
"Mr. Torne."
Corvin stood on his porch.
"Vance."
"I've come to make you one final offer."
"I already answered."
Vance smiled.
"You haven't heard the new number."
"I don't care."
"Five thousand dollars."
Corvin shook his head.
"Leave."
Vance's smile disappeared.
"You have Apache warriors on your land."
"They're not on my land."
"They're surrounding your house."
"They're watching."
"Same thing."
Vance leaned forward.
"Give me the spring and I'll make sure you walk away alive."
Corvin's hand rested near his pistol.
"Is that a threat?"
"No."
Vance looked toward the Apache ridge.
"It's advice."
A gunshot cracked.
Everyone froze.
The bullet struck the dirt between Corvin's boots.
Vance's men immediately reached for their rifles.
The Apache warriors raised their bows.
Corvin shouted.
"Don't shoot!"
Nobody moved.
Then another shot came.
This one struck Vance's horse.
The animal screamed and collapsed.
Vance fell into the dust.
Chaos erupted.
But Corvin saw something nobody else did.
The shooter wasn't Apache.
The muzzle flash had come from the southern ridge.
One of Vance's own men.
A deliberate shot.
A staged attack.
Corvin understood.
Vance wanted blood.
He wanted the Apache to retaliate.
Then he would bring soldiers.
He would declare Cold Springs a battlefield.
And in the chaos, he would seize the spring.
Corvin shouted toward Naya.
"Don't fire!"
She understood immediately.
Her hand rose.
Three hundred bows stopped.
Vance stared at Corvin from the dirt.
"You've chosen your side."
Corvin answered:
"No."
He raised his rifle.
"I've chosen not to be your fool."
THE CANYON OF BROKEN ARROWS
Vance withdrew.
But Corvin knew it was temporary.
By sunset, the Apache camp had disappeared from the ridge.
Naya remained.
She approached the cabin after dark.
Corvin opened the door.
"You should go," he said.
"So should you."
"This is my home."
"And this is my fight."
Corvin shook his head.
"No. It's both now."
Naya studied him.
"You are stubborn."
"So I've been told."
She almost smiled.
Then she entered the cabin.
For the first time, Corvin noticed how badly wounded she truly was.
The cut on her temple had reopened.
Her left shoulder was swollen.
Corvin brought out his medical kit.
"Sit."
Naya sat.
He cleaned the wound.
She did not flinch.
"You were shot?"
"Graze."
"Who?"
She was silent.
"Vance's men?"
"Men wearing army coats."
Corvin stopped.
"What?"
"Not soldiers."
"Mercenaries?"
Naya nodded.
"They want the Apache blamed."
Corvin understood the scale of the conspiracy.
Someone in government was involved.
Perhaps several people.
Vance wasn't merely a cattle baron.
He was part of something larger.
A plan to manufacture war.
If Apache raids increased, the army would respond.
Settlers would flee.
Land prices would collapse.
Then Vance and his allies could buy everything.
Water.
Ranches.
Mines.
Roads.
The entire valley.
Corvin looked at Naya.
"We need proof."
She nodded.
"Proof is hidden in Black Canyon."
"What is there?"
"A camp."
"Whose?"
"Vance's."
They left before dawn.
Corvin rode his dun gelding.
Naya rode a powerful black horse.
They traveled through dry washes and narrow canyons.
At noon they reached Black Canyon.
Below them stood a hidden encampment.
Twenty men.
Three wagons.
Crates.
And a pile of army uniforms.
Corvin watched through his spyglass.