Men on horseback.
Women too.
Some carrying rifles.
Others bows.
Others nothing visible.
Nathan's hand drifted toward his revolver.
Alaya grabbed his wrist.
“Don't.”
“I wasn't drawing.”
“You were thinking.”
“You're becoming irritating.”
She stepped in front of him.
More riders surrounded the clearing.
Nathan estimated two hundred.
Then more.
Perhaps three hundred.
No one shouted.
No one charged.
That silence frightened him more than noise would have.
A tall warrior dismounted.
His hair was streaked with gray.
He walked forward.
Alaya whispered, “My father.”
Dosela stopped twenty feet away.
His eyes moved across his daughter.
Wet.
Bruised.
Alive.
Then toward Nathan.
Then toward the river.
His face revealed nothing.
Alaya stepped forward.
“Father.”
Dosela spoke in Apache.
Nathan understood only a few words.
Where.
Blood.
Men.
Alaya answered rapidly.
Dosela's eyes snapped toward Nathan.
He spoke in English.
“You carried my daughter through the river?”
Nathan looked at Alaya.
“She did some swimming.”
“This is not time for jokes.”
“No.”
Dosela stepped closer.
“You are Benjamin Cole's son.”
“Yes.”
“Your father saved my brother.”
“So I'm told.”
Dosela looked toward Nathan's revolver.
Then toward the western bank, where armed riders were gathering beyond the river.
Nathan counted at least six now.
Dosela's warriors saw them too.
Rifles began to rise.
Nathan suddenly understood how close they were to disaster.
If Mercer's men fired across the river—
If the Apache riders returned fire—
If soldiers heard gunfire—
By nightfall, nobody would care who fired first.
Alaya pulled the leather pouch from beneath her soaked coat.
“Father, Mercer planned this.”
Dosela's eyes hardened.
She held out the documents.
“He wants war.”
Across the river, one of Mercer's men lifted a rifle.
Nathan saw the barrel.
“Down!”
The shot cracked.
Three hundred Apache riders moved almost as one.
Weapons rose.
Nathan knew the next ten seconds could kill people who had never heard Silas Mercer's name.
He stepped forward and raised both arms.
“WAIT!”
Nathan did not know whether anyone would listen.
The river roared.
Thunder rolled.
Mercer's rifleman fired again.
The bullet disappeared into the trees.
Dosela's warriors aimed across the water.
Nathan stood between them and the river.
“Don't give him what he wants!”
Several men looked at Dosela.
Dosela did not lower his own rifle.
Nathan pointed across the river.
“Those men want you to fire!”
Dosela's eyes narrowed.
“You know this?”
“No.”
“Then move.”
“No.”
That answer was dangerous.
Nathan knew it.
So did everyone around him.
Alaya stepped beside him.
“Father, listen.”
Dosela looked at his daughter.
“The papers show payments,” she said. “Mercer hired men to burn the wagons. He has been telling settlers our people plan attacks. He told Army suppliers that you are collecting weapons.”
“We have weapons.”
“Not for the war he describes.”
Dosela stared at the riders across the river.
One fired again.
This time the shot struck a tree.
An Apache rider shouted angrily.
Nathan stepped closer to Dosela.
“If you return fire now, they'll ride back to San Rosario and say three hundred Apaches attacked them.”
Dosela's face remained stone.
“They fired first.”
“You think the newspapers will ask?”
Silence.
Nathan continued.
“You think the frightened ranchers will wait for proof?”
Dosela lowered his rifle slightly.
Across the river, the gunmen seemed confused.
They had expected return fire.
One shouted something Nathan could not hear.
Then they began riding south.
Dosela issued an order.
Twenty riders moved immediately.
Nathan shook his head.
“Don't cross.”
Dosela turned toward him.
“They followed my daughter.”
“I know.”
“They killed her horse.”
“I know.”
“They fired at my people.”
“I know.”
“Then why should they leave?”
“Because Mercer wants bodies.”
Dosela's expression sharpened.
Nathan pointed to Alaya's pouch.
“You have something more valuable than revenge.”
“Paper?”
“Proof.”
Dosela looked toward his daughter.
She nodded.
“They must reach someone outside Mercer's influence.”
Nathan considered who that might be.
The territorial judge in Tucson?
A newspaper?
A federal investigator?
Then he remembered someone.
“Captain Amos Reed.”
Dosela's expression darkened.
“Army.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You know him?”
“I know his uniform.”
Nathan shook his head.
“Reed investigated stolen supply rifles last year. He refused to blame your people when others demanded it.”
Dosela hesitated.
Alaya said, “I have heard his name.”
Nathan continued.
“He is at Fort Lowell.”
“Two days.”
“One if we ride hard.”
Dosela glanced at the gathering storm.
“Not tonight.”
“No.”
Another rider approached.
He was younger than Dosela, strong-faced and visibly angry.
He spoke quickly.
Dosela answered.
The man pointed across the river and then at Nathan.
Alaya whispered, “My cousin, Taza. He thinks you may work with Mercer.”
“Reasonable.”
“He also wants to kill you.”
“Less reasonable.”
Alaya almost smiled.
Dosela spoke to Nathan.
“Taza says your people have made promises before.”
Nathan looked at the younger warrior.
“Tell him I didn't.”
Alaya translated.
Taza answered immediately.
“He says you benefit from them.”
Nathan looked around.
At the wet riders.
At children sheltered beneath blankets farther back.
At elderly people moving among the horses.
This was not simply a war party.
It was a traveling community.
Families.
Dosela had apparently gathered people before moving to safer winter ground.
Mercer had wanted someone to discover them here, armed and numerous.
Nathan understood the plan more clearly.
“Mercer knew you would be here.”
Alaya looked at him.
“What?”
“He knew.”
Dosela frowned.
Nathan pointed around them.
“Three hundred people near the river. Armed men fire from the opposite bank. Somebody reports an Apache force gathering near settlements.”
Alaya's eyes widened.
“He didn't only want us to retaliate.”
“No.”
Nathan's stomach tightened.
“He wants the Army to find you.”
Dosela immediately issued orders.
Riders moved in every direction.
Scouts.
Nathan looked toward the western horizon.
The storm obscured everything.
That could help.
Or hide soldiers.
“We need to move.”
Dosela nodded.
He looked at Nathan.
“You come.”
It was not an invitation.
They traveled east into the hills.
Nathan was given a spare horse.
Alaya rode beside her father.
Nobody offered Nathan dry clothes.
He did not blame them.
By nightfall they reached a hidden valley surrounded by jagged red cliffs.
Fires were kept small.
Children gathered beneath canvas shelters.
Nathan sat beside one flame, wrapped in a borrowed blanket.
Taza watched him from across the fire.
After ten minutes Nathan said, “If you plan to kill me, I'd appreciate it before I finish warming up.”
Alaya sat nearby translating.
Taza answered.
“He says you talk too much.”
Nathan nodded.
“We agree.”
Taza said something else.
Alaya hesitated.
“What?”
“He asks why you helped me.”
Nathan looked into the fire.
“Your father knew mine.”
Taza shook his head.
More words.
“He says that explains crossing the desert. Not the river.”
Nathan thought of brown water closing over Alaya.
He shrugged.
“She was drowning.”
Taza stared.
Nathan looked at Alaya.
“Is there a more complicated answer expected?”
“No.”
Dosela approached.
Everyone became quiet.
He sat opposite Nathan.
Alaya placed the soaked documents near the fire.
Some pages were damaged but readable.
Nathan examined one.
Payment to D. Kress.
Freight disruption.
Another mentioned rifles.
Another listed money transferred through Mercer's trading company.
One letter referred to “forcing the military question before winter.”
Nathan read it twice.
“He wants the land.”
Dosela nodded.
“What land?”
Alaya pointed toward a rough map.
“Rail survey.”
Nathan understood.
A proposed rail spur was expected to cross several valleys currently used by Apache families and nearby ranchers.
If the Army forcibly removed Dosela's people, Mercer could acquire transportation and grazing contracts tied to the route.
“War is profitable,” Nathan repeated.
Alaya nodded.
Dosela looked at him.
“You take these to Reed.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow.
“Me?”
“You are white.”
The bluntness surprised him.
Dosela continued.
“You enter fort with papers. I enter fort with riders, soldiers prepare guns.”
Nathan could not argue.
“I'll take Alaya.”
“No.”
Alaya immediately protested.
Dosela answered sharply.
Father and daughter argued.
Nathan understood only pieces.
Danger.
Proof.
Trust.
Daughter.
Finally Alaya turned to Nathan.
“He says I stay.”
Nathan nodded.
“Probably smart.”
She glared.
“You agree?”
“It means I only have to keep myself alive.”
“I crossed the river because of you.”
“You fell in.”
“Your horse was supposed to carry us.”
“My horse had reasonable objections to the situation.”
Dosela looked between them with visible impatience.
Then a scout rode into camp.
He spoke urgently.
Dosela stood.
Alaya went pale.