Evelyn continued.
“My husband left the ranch to me.”
“Then it's yours.”
“It was.”
She pulled a folded document from her coat.
“Until three weeks ago.”
Caleb took it.
He read the paper.
The document claimed Thomas Mercer had signed a transfer of ownership shortly before his death.
Caleb looked at the signature.
It was supposed to be Thomas's.
But something bothered him.
“You don't believe this is real.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because my husband couldn't write his name.”
Caleb looked at her.
“What?”
“He injured his right hand when he was a boy.”
Evelyn pointed at the signature.
“He always signed documents with a mark.”
Caleb stared at the paper.
This signature was elegant.
Confident.
Written by someone with a steady hand.
“This is forged.”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Not yet.”
Caleb handed the paper back.
“You need a lawyer.”
“I hired one.”
“And?”
“He disappeared.”
Caleb looked toward the street.
“How long?”
“Four days.”
“Dead?”
“I don't know.”
Caleb sighed.
“Then you need a sheriff.”
“I told you.”
“Right.”
“You understand now.”
Caleb looked at her.
“No.”
“I need someone who isn't afraid of Silas Vane.”
Caleb smiled without humor.
“Then you definitely hired the wrong man.”
Evelyn's expression did not change.
“You're afraid?”
“No.”
“Then why leave?”
“Because I'm tired.”
That answer surprised her.
Caleb continued.
“I've spent half my life fighting men like Vane. They always have more money, more guns, more friends.”
“So?”
“So eventually you get tired of winning battles and losing everything.”
Evelyn stared at him.
Then she said quietly,
“My husband died because he refused to give Vane the Mercer water rights.”
Caleb looked at her.
“What water rights?”
“The eastern river.”
That caught his attention.
The river supplied four ranches.
Whoever controlled it controlled half the cattle in the county.
“Vane wants the river.”
“Yes.”
“And the ranch.”
“Yes.”
“And you're standing between him and both.”
Evelyn nodded.
Caleb handed back the paper.
“You should leave town.”
She almost smiled.
“I have nowhere to go.”
“That has never stopped anyone.”
“It stops me.”
Caleb studied her.
There was something in her eyes he recognized.
Not fear.
Determination.
He had seen that look in his own reflection after the fire.
The look of someone who had lost enough to stop caring what came next.
“You have a horse?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Can you shoot?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“Better than most men.”
Caleb nodded.
“That wasn't the answer I expected.”
“I didn't become a widow by accident.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said,
“I'll give you three days.”
“For what?”
“To prove you're telling the truth.”
“And if I am?”
Caleb mounted Dusty.
“Then I'll help you.”
Evelyn watched him ride away.
She did not smile.
She simply stood there until he disappeared beyond the edge of town.
That night, Caleb rented the cheapest room in Blackwater.
He slept with his boots on.
At midnight, someone tried to kill him.
The door opened silently.
A shadow entered.
Caleb woke before the knife reached his chest.
He caught the man's wrist.
The attacker froze.
Caleb twisted.
The knife dropped.
The man struck Caleb across the face.
Caleb hit him in the stomach.
They crashed into the wall.
The attacker ran.
Caleb grabbed his coat and threw him against the door.
“Who sent you?”
The man said nothing.
Caleb pressed his revolver against his jaw.
“Last chance.”
The man laughed.
“You think you're the first cowboy Vane has tried to bury?”
Then he kicked Caleb in the knee and escaped through the window.