Thomas was polite, educated, and angry at the restrictions.
“We are treating our own people like criminals,” he told Daniel outside the council house.
“We are treating one criminal like he may be among our own people,” Daniel answered.
“That is how trust dies.”
“Trust was already wounded when someone told Vane where to look.”
Thomas saw Ethan and stopped speaking.
Ethan nodded to him.
Thomas did not return it.
Elara joined Ethan near the corral.
“You think it is Thomas.”
“I think he wants me to think it is Thomas.”
“That sentence made no sense.”
“It did to me.”
“That is not encouraging.”
They rode north toward the county seat just after breakfast.
The plan was dangerous and simple. The master deed referenced the county archive ledger. If Vane had bribed the clerk, there might still be an older duplicate in the federal land office sixty miles away. Ethan and Elara would check the county records first, then continue to the federal office if necessary.
Daniel wanted to send ten riders.
Ethan refused.
“A group that large announces what we are doing.”
Elara added, “And half of Vane’s men will follow us.”
Daniel looked at her uncovered face.
“You are certain?”
“Yes.”
He gave her a long look, then nodded.
They rode alone.
The county seat of Hawthorne was a dusty main street with a bank, courthouse, hotel, three saloons, and enough law offices to prove someone was always stealing something from someone else.
The county clerk, Harold Pike, became nervous the moment Ethan mentioned Samuel Cole.
“No records under that name.”
“You did not look,” Ethan said.
“I know my archive.”
Elara leaned on the counter. “Then you know the 1878 water-right ledger.”
Pike’s face went pale.
“There was a fire.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Which year?”
“I would have to check.”
“You just said you know your archive.”
Pike glared at her.
Ethan placed Vane’s freight token on the counter.
“We found this on a man who attacked Cedar Hollow last night.”
The clerk’s eyes dropped to it.
Ethan saw the recognition.
“You know what that means,” he said.
“I know nothing.”
“Then you will not mind if we search the old index books.”
Pike stepped in front of the archive door.
“You need a court order.”
A voice behind them said, “No, they do not.”
The county judge had entered quietly.
Judge Miriam Vale was sixty-two, silver-haired, sharp-eyed, and no relation to Silas Vane despite the similarity of their names. She carried herself like someone who had outlived many men who mistook volume for authority.
“Public land records are open to inspection,” she said.
Pike swallowed.
The judge looked at Ethan.
“You are Samuel Cole’s boy.”
Ethan was getting tired of hearing that from strangers.
“Apparently everyone knew my father except me.”
Miriam’s expression softened.
“He tried to bring evidence to my predecessor. He never arrived.”
She unlocked the archive herself.
For four hours, Ethan and Elara searched ledgers filled with transfers, liens, water claims, and survey amendments.
Near noon, Elara found the entry.
The original Cedar Hollow boundary description had been crossed out and replaced with a new line in different ink.
Next to the change was a reference number.
17-B-44.
Ethan searched the deed cabinet.
Drawer 17.
Section B.
Folder 44 was empty.
Pike had disappeared.
Judge Miriam swore.
“Back door.”
They ran outside.
Pike was halfway to the stable.
Elara reached him first.
She stepped in front of his horse and grabbed the bridle.
The horse stopped.
Pike nearly fell from the saddle.
“Move!” he shouted.
Elara looked up at him. “Where is the deed?”
“I do not know.”
“You ran because you enjoy exercise?”
Pike reached inside his coat.
Ethan drew his revolver.
“Do not.”
Pike froze.
Judge Miriam arrived with the sheriff.
Unfortunately, the sheriff was smiling.
“Judge,” he said, “step away from the horse.”
Ethan recognized the situation instantly.
The sheriff was Vane’s man.
Three deputies appeared from behind the stable.
The sheriff looked at Ethan. “You are under arrest for theft of county records.”
“We have not taken anything.”
“Pike says otherwise.”
Pike nodded eagerly.
Elara said, “Pike is the man trying to flee.”
The sheriff ignored her.
Ethan counted guns.
Four against two.
Then Judge Miriam stepped between them.
“If you arrest anyone without cause, Sheriff, I will suspend you before supper.”
“You cannot.”
“I appointed your deputy commission. I can revoke it.”
The sheriff’s smile vanished.
Miriam turned to Pike. “Where is 17-B-44?”
Pike started sweating.
“I do not know.”
The judge pointed at the stable office. “Search him.”
The sheriff did not move.
One of the younger deputies did.
Inside Pike’s coat they found a telegram.
It had been sent that morning.
COLE HEIR IN TOWN. WOMAN WITH HIM. SEND MEN BEFORE THEY REACH FEDERAL OFFICE.
Signed with a single letter.
T.
Ethan and Elara looked at each other.
Thomas.
Or someone who wanted them to think Thomas.
Pike broke.
“Vane has the deed,” he said. “He took it months ago.”
“Where?” Ethan asked.
“His ranch office.”
Judge Miriam shook her head. “A stolen county document found on private property may still be challenged as evidence if chain of custody is broken.”
Elara looked at the ledger entry. “Then we need the federal duplicate.”
Miriam nodded. “The federal office closes at five tomorrow. After that, the land commissioner leaves for three weeks.”
Ethan looked west.
Sixty miles.
“We ride now.”
They left Hawthorne within the hour.
At dusk, they saw riders behind them.
Six.
Vane’s men.
Ethan and Elara cut south into broken country, following a narrow arroyo between ridges. They rode until dark, then hid the horses beneath a rock shelf.
The riders passed within two hundred yards.
Ethan and Elara waited in silence.
When the hoofbeats faded, Elara whispered, “We need to move.”
Ethan did not answer.
He was looking at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You are smiling.”
“We are being hunted.”
“Yes.”
“I find it clarifying.”
“That may be the strangest thing I know about you.”
“Not even close.”
They rode through the night.
At dawn, they reached a stage station where they traded exhausted horses for fresh ones. The keeper recognized Ethan but asked no questions when Elara placed double payment on the counter.
At three in the afternoon, the federal land office came into view.
So did Vane.
Silas Vane stood on the steps with four men.
He was tall, elegant, and dressed too well for the dust. His hair was dark with silver at the temples. He looked more like a banker than a man who ordered raids.
“Ethan Cole,” he said pleasantly. “You have become inconvenient.”
Ethan dismounted.
“I learned from you.”
Vane’s eyes moved to Elara.
For the first time, he saw her without the veil.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face.
Then calculation.
“So the famous mystery is solved.”
Elara dismounted beside Ethan.
“You were never entitled to the answer.”
Vane smiled. “Your mother understood business better than you do.”
“My mother refused to sell to your father.”
“And look how much trouble that caused everyone.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“Move.”
Vane’s men spread across the steps.
The land office door opened behind them.
An elderly clerk looked out.
“What is this?”
Elara raised her voice.
“We are here to inspect federal land record 17-B-44 relating to Cedar Hollow spring rights.”
The clerk frowned.
Vane’s smile disappeared.
Federal offices had witnesses.
Witnesses complicated violence.
The clerk said, “That record is available to lawful claimants.”
Elara held up the partial deed.
“I am one.”
Ethan added, “So am I.”
Vane stared at them for a long moment.
Then he stepped aside.
“Of course.”
The clerk led them inside.
The federal duplicate was exactly where it should have been.
It proved Samuel Cole had filed an objection to the altered boundary. It proved Miriam Red Cedar’s water rights. It included Samuel’s sworn statement naming Vane’s father and two county officials in the fraud.
But the final page was missing.
The page that contained the original survey map.
The clerk searched every cabinet.
Nothing.
Ethan felt sick.
Vane stood in the doorway.
“Unfortunate,” he said.
Elara looked at him.
“You took it.”
“Prove it.”
The clerk suddenly remembered something.
“There may be a photographic copy.”
Everyone turned.
“A traveling survey commission photographed disputed maps ten years ago. Copies were sent to the territorial archive.”
Vane’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Ethan saw it.
So did Elara.
The hearing was in eight days.
The territorial archive was two hundred miles away.
Ethan folded the federal pages and placed them inside his vest.
He looked at Vane.
“See you in court.”
Vane smiled again, but there was no humor in it.
“If you reach it.”
Outside, Elara mounted her horse.
“Was that a threat?”
Ethan climbed into the saddle.
“With Vane, it is usually a schedule.”
They rode east as the sun dropped behind them.
For the first time, they had enough evidence to frighten the man trying to destroy Cedar Hollow.
Which meant they were more dangerous than they had ever been.
The road back to Cedar Hollow should have taken a day and a half.
It took three.
Vane’s men cut the bridge at Willow Creek. A freight wagon mysteriously overturned across the north pass. Two riders followed Ethan and Elara for twenty miles before disappearing into the hills. None of it was dramatic enough to prove. All of it was deliberate.
By the time they reached the canyon, Cedar Hollow looked different.
Smoke hung above the eastern ridge.
Ethan spurred his horse.
A storage barn had burned to the ground.