By midday they reached a narrow canyon.
Caleb stopped.
“What is it?”
“Tracks.”
Mara looked down.
Horse tracks.
Several horses.
Fresh.
“They followed us.”
“Who?”
Caleb dismounted.
“Everyone.”
He studied the ground.
“Six riders.”
Mara looked frightened.
“Can we outrun them?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I prefer certainty.”
He pointed toward a narrow passage.
“We go through there.”
They pushed their horses into the canyon.
The walls rose high on either side.
After nearly an hour, Caleb stopped again.
“There.”
A small marking had been carved into the stone.
A bird flying across a circle.
Mara touched it.
“My father.”
They followed the markings deeper into the canyon.
At the end they found an abandoned stone cabin.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and old wood.
Mara searched the walls.
Nothing.
Caleb checked the floor.
Nothing.
Then Mara noticed a loose stone.
She pulled it away.
A small iron box was hidden behind it.
Her hands trembled.
Caleb opened it.
Inside were documents.
Land deeds.
Bank receipts.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Mara read the first page.
Then another.
Her face went pale.
“What is it?”
She handed Caleb a document.
It showed that several families had been forced from their land through forged contracts.
The signatures had been falsified.
Money had changed hands.
And at the bottom were names.
Sheriff Silas Boone.
Judge Walter Kane.
Land Commissioner Henry Whitaker.
Mara stared at the pages.
“My father knew.”
Caleb nodded.
“He discovered the scheme.”
“That's why he was killed.”
“Probably.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Caleb looked at her.
“There is something else.”
She held up another document.
“This isn't about land.”
“What?”
“Look at the dates.”
Caleb studied them.
The payments had continued for years.
But the amounts were increasing.
“Why?”
Mara turned the page.
A map showed underground water sources beneath the valley.
Caleb finally understood.
“The water.”
Mara nodded.
“They wanted control of the water.”
Black Mesa was sitting above one of the largest underground water systems in the region.
Whoever controlled the land controlled the water.
And whoever controlled the water controlled every ranch, farm, and settlement for miles.
Caleb folded the documents.
“We need to get these to someone outside Red Hollow.”
Mara nodded.
“The federal office.”
“Too far.”
“The county seat?”
“Closer.”
“Then let's go.”
They barely made it outside before gunfire erupted.
Bullets struck the stone walls.
Caleb grabbed Mara and pulled her behind the cabin.
Six riders appeared along the ridge.
The leader shouted:
“Leave the documents and walk away!”
Caleb looked at Mara.
“Do you know them?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“If you knew them, I'd have to worry.”
He drew his pistol.
Mara stared.
“There are six.”
“I counted seven.”
She looked toward the ridge.
A seventh man appeared.
Caleb smiled.
“See?”
“You're joking.”
“Not really.”
The shooting continued.
Caleb waited.
Then he fired.
One rider fell.
Another ducked behind a rock.
Mara saw an opening.
“There!”
A narrow trail ran behind the cabin.
Caleb nodded.
They ran.
Bullets struck the dirt around them.
Mara climbed onto her horse.
Caleb mounted his.
They rode through the canyon as fast as they could.
Behind them, the riders followed.
For nearly an hour, they stayed ahead.
Then the trail narrowed.
A rider appeared in front of them.
Deputy Cole.
He pointed his gun.
“End of the road.”
Caleb dismounted.
“Let her go.”
Cole laughed.
“You still think this is about her?”
Caleb's expression changed.
“What do you mean?”
“This is about what her father found.”
Mara stepped forward.
“What happened to my father?”
Cole hesitated.
That hesitation told them enough.
“You were there,” Mara said.
Cole looked away.
“You were there when he died.”
He lowered his gun slightly.
“He wasn't supposed to die.”
Caleb stared at him.
“Who ordered it?”