"They already got my father killed."
Thomas looked up.
"Was his death an accident?"
Clara shook her head.
"I don't know."
Thomas believed her.
But he also believed there was more.
He handed the papers back.
"Hide these."
"Where?"
Thomas looked around.
"Not here."
Clara frowned.
Thomas stood.
"There is an old root cellar beneath the barn."
"You have a cellar?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
"Something I never finished."
He led her outside.
The moon was rising.
Behind the barn, beneath loose boards, was a concealed trapdoor.
Thomas opened it.
Clara climbed down.
There were shelves, empty barrels, and a narrow stone chamber.
Thomas pointed.
"Put the papers there."
Clara did.
Then she looked at him.
"Why are you helping me?"
Thomas was quiet.
Finally he answered.
"Because your father asked."
"That's all?"
Thomas looked toward the stars.
"Sometimes that's enough."
The Storm
Three nights later, a storm came.
The desert changed quickly.
Wind tore across the valley.
Dust struck the windows.
Lightning flashed over the mountains.
Thomas secured the barn doors while Clara held Boone inside.
Then thunder shook the house.
A flash of lightning struck somewhere beyond the ridge.
The cattle panicked.
Thomas ran outside.
"Stay here!"
Clara ignored him.
She followed.
Together they fought the storm.
One section of fence collapsed.
Six cattle escaped.
Thomas saddled Copper.
Clara grabbed a lantern.
"You stay here," he shouted.
"No."
"Clara!"
"I'm coming."
"You don't know the land."
"I know enough."
They rode into the storm.
For two hours they searched.
The rain came suddenly, turning the hard earth into mud.
They found the cattle near a wash.
One calf was trapped.
Thomas dismounted.
The ground shifted beneath him.
He fell waist-deep into mud.
Clara screamed.
Thomas grabbed a branch.
"Don't come closer!"
She threw him a rope.
"Hold it!"
He did.
Clara tied the other end around Copper.
The horse pulled.
Thomas climbed free.
He was covered in mud.
Clara began laughing.
Thomas stared at her.
"You think this is funny?"
"You should see yourself."
Thomas laughed too.
For a moment, the storm disappeared.
There were no papers.
No criminals.
No debts.
No dead fathers.
Only two people standing beneath the rain.
When they returned to the ranch, Clara found a blanket and wrapped it around Thomas.
"You could have died."
"So could you."
"I wasn't the one stuck in a hole."
Thomas looked at her.
"You stayed."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Clara looked down.
"I don't know."
Thomas knew.
But he did not say it.
The Town of Red Mesa
Thomas went to Red Mesa the next morning.
Clara insisted on coming.
They arrived before noon.
The town was small.
One main street.
A blacksmith.
A general store.
A saloon.
A church.
And the sheriff's office.
Thomas entered the sheriff's office.
Sheriff Daniel Mercer looked up.
"Thomas Hale."
"Daniel."
Mercer nodded toward Clara.
"Who's she?"
"Clara Whitmore."
Mercer's expression changed.
"Samuel's girl?"
"Yes."
Mercer stood.
"You shouldn't be here."
Clara stiffened.
"Why?"
Mercer closed the door.
"Voss has men everywhere."
Thomas said, "I figured."
Mercer looked at him.
"You don't understand."
"I understand enough."
"No. You don't."
Mercer lowered his voice.
"Voss owns the newspaper. He controls the bank. Two deputies are on his payroll."
Thomas said nothing.
"You're putting yourself in danger."
Thomas looked at Clara.
Then back at Mercer.
"I've lived eleven years in the desert."
Mercer frowned.
"So?"
"I've learned danger doesn't always look like a gun."
Mercer sighed.
"What do you want?"
"Protection for Clara."
"I can't provide it."
"Then tell me who can."
Mercer hesitated.
"Federal marshal in Tucson."
"How long?"
"Three days."
Thomas nodded.
"We have three days."
Mercer grabbed his arm.
"Thomas."
Thomas stopped.
"Voss won't wait."
"I know."
"Then don't go home."
Thomas looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because that's where he'll look first."
Thomas smiled.
"Then he'll find me there."
The Man Who Owned Everything
Ezekiel Voss arrived at the ranch that afternoon.
He came with four men.
Thomas was repairing a wagon wheel.
Clara stood beside the porch.
Voss dismounted.
He was dressed better than any man Thomas had seen in months.
Black coat.
Silver watch.
Polished boots.
He smiled as though the entire desert belonged to him.
"Mr. Hale."
Thomas kept working.
"Mr. Voss."