The journey would take two days.
If Bell's men had already reached the region, they might have less than twenty-four hours.
For the first several miles, no one spoke.
The trail wound through rocky hills and dry washes. Cacti grew between the stones, and hawks circled overhead. The land was beautiful in a harsh, unforgiving way.
Daniel rode beside Naya.
“How did your brother discover the map?”
She looked at the mountains.
“My grandfather showed it to him. Elias was a translator. He worked with soldiers, traders, and government officials. He believed that if our people understood the language of the white men, they might protect themselves.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
She paused.
“But he never stopped trying.”
Daniel nodded.
“What happened to him?”
Naya's eyes darkened.
“He discovered that Bell was selling information to a mining company. The company wanted the water beneath our land. Bell promised to help them obtain it in exchange for money and a share of the profits.”
“Why would a deputy marshal be involved in a mining company?”
“Because men like Bell do not care about laws. They care about what laws can buy.”
She looked at him.
“Elias found the records. He planned to bring them to the territorial governor.”
“And Bell killed him.”
Naya nodded.
“He was arrested at night. They said he had attacked a soldier. They shot him before sunrise.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“I'm sorry.”
She looked away.
“I thought I would die before I could tell anyone.”
“You didn't.”
“No.”
For a moment, their eyes met.
“Because you stopped.”
Daniel looked ahead.
“I've been thinking about that.”
“About what?”
“Why you were carrying the map when you were shot.”
Naya's expression changed.
She touched the leather pouch.
“I was taking it to my father. Bell's men followed me from the canyon. I escaped, but they wounded me near the river.”
“You could have hidden it.”
“I did.”
“Where?”
She smiled.
“In the one place they never thought to look.”
Daniel frowned.
She leaned closer.
“Beneath my own skin.”
He looked at her in surprise.
Naya laughed softly.
“Not literally. I sewed it into the lining of my dress. They searched my pouch, my horse, and the saddle. They never thought to examine my clothing.”
Daniel shook his head.
“You're a remarkable woman.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“And you are a remarkable fool.”
He laughed.
For the first time since the battle, the sound came easily.
They rode on.
By midday, the mountains had grown steeper, and the trail narrowed between towering walls of red stone. The riders moved in single file, watching the ridges for signs of movement.
Then Chato raised his hand.
Everyone stopped.
He pointed toward the ground.
Fresh tracks crossed the trail.
Horse tracks.
Dozens of them.
Daniel dismounted and examined the prints.
“How many?”
Chato crouched beside him.
“Twenty, perhaps thirty.”
“Soldiers?”
“Some.”
The chief pointed to a deeper impression in the dirt.
“And a wagon.”
Daniel looked toward the canyon.
The enemy had reached the springs.
They continued on foot for the final mile, leading their horses through a narrow passage between two cliffs.
The canyon opened suddenly into a broad basin surrounded by towering rock walls.
Daniel stopped in amazement.
Water flowed through the center of the valley.
Not a stream, but a clear, powerful river emerging from a crack in the mountainside. Cottonwood trees grew along its banks, and green grass covered the ground. Beyond the river stood a cluster of ancient stone structures, half buried in the earth.
The seven springs.
For generations, they had remained hidden from outsiders.
Now the valley was filled with soldiers.
Men had erected tents beside the water. A wagon stood near the riverbank, and several horses were tied to the trees. Two men were unloading crates of dynamite.
Daniel stared.
“What are they doing?”
Chato's face hardened.
“They intend to destroy the passage beneath the mountain.”
Naya looked at the river.
“If they collapse the underground channels, the water will be forced toward the eastern valley.”
Daniel understood.
“They want to redirect the springs.”
“And sell the water,” Naya said.
A man stepped out from behind a tent.
He wore a dark suit and a wide-brimmed hat. His face was narrow, his eyes pale, and a gold watch chain gleamed across his vest.
Bell had mentioned a mining company.
Daniel recognized the man from the letter.
Silas Whitcomb.
The president of Whitcomb Mining and Water Company.
Whitcomb looked toward the cliffs.
Then he smiled.
“Well,” he said. “The Apache have arrived.”
He glanced at Daniel.
“And they brought the rancher.”
Whitcomb raised his hand.
Soldiers emerged from behind the tents, rifles pointed toward the narrow entrance of the canyon.
Daniel counted forty men.
There was no way to retreat without exposing themselves to gunfire.
Chato moved forward.
“You have no right to be here.”
Whitcomb chuckled.
“Rights are determined by ownership, Chief. And ownership is determined by documents.”
He pulled a folded paper from his coat.
“I have a legal contract granting my company access to these water sources.”
Naya stepped forward.
“That contract is a lie.”
Whitcomb's smile widened.
“Then prove it.”
He looked at the crates of dynamite.
“Unfortunately, I have a schedule to keep.”
Daniel felt a cold weight settle in his stomach.
Whitcomb was not interested in negotiation.
He intended to destroy the springs before anyone could stop him.
And if he succeeded, the hidden river beneath the mountains would become a weapon against everyone who lived in the valley.
Daniel looked at the explosives.
“How much dynamite?”
Whitcomb smiled.
“Enough.”
“Enough to collapse the whole mountain?”
“Enough to make the water flow where it belongs.”
Chato's voice was low.
“The water belongs to the land.”
Whitcomb shrugged.
“Then the land should have learned to negotiate.”
Naya stepped forward, but Daniel caught her arm.
“Wait.”
He looked at the soldiers.
Some appeared young, barely out of their teens. Others were older, their faces worn by years of service. Several looked uncomfortable, avoiding the eyes of the Apache warriors.
Daniel recognized the expression.
He had seen it in the faces of soldiers ordered to do something they knew was wrong.
He raised his hands.
“I'm Daniel Mercer. I'm a citizen of the United States, and I have evidence that the contract you're using is fraudulent.”
Whitcomb laughed.
“Evidence?”
Daniel pulled the letter from his pocket.
“Orders signed by territorial officials to seize private land, drive families from their homes, and destroy a water source for personal profit.”
Whitcomb's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Daniel noticed.
“Where did you get that?”
“From Deputy Marshal Bell.”
A murmur passed through the soldiers.
Whitcomb glanced at the men behind him.
“Bell is a criminal.”
“He said the same thing about Naya's brother.”
Whitcomb's eyes narrowed.
“You have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Then you won't mind if we take these documents to the governor.”
For a moment, the canyon was silent.
Then Whitcomb smiled again.
“You won't be leaving this valley.”
He raised his hand.
The soldiers tightened their grip on their rifles.
Daniel looked at Chato.
The chief's face was calm, but his hand rested near his knife.
Naya stood beside Daniel, pale but determined.
Three hundred warriors were not here to help them.
Only twelve riders.
Forty soldiers stood between them and the springs.
And the dynamite was already in place.
Daniel knew that a direct attack would mean death.
He also knew that if they did nothing, the mountain would be destroyed.