Elias watched.
“You're very good at that.”
“At what?”
“Making chaos look less frightening.”
She looked at him.
“You're very good at making everything look impossible.”
He laughed.
It surprised both of them.
Over the following weeks, they became partners.
Not husband and wife in the traditional sense.
Not yet.
They were simply two people trying to keep a ranch alive.
Clara discovered that Elias knew every horse by name.
Elias discovered that Clara sang while working.
She sang quietly.
Old songs from New Mexico.
Sometimes she forgot he was listening.
He never interrupted.
One afternoon, he found her sitting beneath the cottonwood tree.
She held an old ledger.
“What are you doing?”
“Reading.”
“Why?”
“Because this is not a normal ranch.”
Elias sat beside her.
“What do you mean?”
“The accounts.”
She turned the book toward him.
“Look.”
He frowned.
“These are old expenses.”
“No.”
She pointed.
“These payments were made to the same supplier.”
“So?”
“The supplier doesn't exist anymore.”
Elias looked closer.
Clara continued.
“And these amounts are too large.”
“How large?”
“Large enough that someone was moving money.”
Elias stared at the pages.
“Are you saying someone stole from the ranch?”
“I don't know.”
She closed the ledger.
“But I think you should find out.”
The next morning, Elias rode to town.
He returned with an old box of records.
Clara spent two days studying them.
By the third evening, she had found something.
Silas Crowe's name appeared repeatedly.
Elias stared at the papers.
“How?”
Clara pointed to several payments.
“These weren't for cattle.”
“What were they?”
“Water rights.”
Elias felt cold.
The irrigation company had claimed his grandfather's water agreement was invalid.
But these payments suggested someone had been trying to buy those rights quietly.
“Crowe?”
“Probably.”
Elias stood.
“We need proof.”
Clara nodded.
“And we need it before the hearing.”
The hearing was six days away.
The same day Black Creek could be seized.
That night, Elias sat on the porch.
Clara brought him coffee.
“You haven't slept.”
“Neither have you.”
“I slept.”
“When?”
She thought.
“Tuesday.”
He laughed.
She sat beside him.
After a while she said:
“You can still sell.”
“I know.”
“You could take the money.”
“I know.”
“You could start again.”
Elias looked at her.
“Could you?”
Clara was silent.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what it means to lose something you cannot replace.”
Elias looked toward the creek.
“What did you lose?”
“My father.”
Clara's voice became softer.
“He was a carpenter.”
“Was?”
“He died when I was seventeen.”
“I'm sorry.”
“He left debts.”
She smiled sadly.
“I spent years believing that meant he failed.”
“And now?”
“Now I think he was simply tired.”
Elias looked at her.
“Maybe that's what I'm afraid of.”
“What?”
“Being remembered as the man who let Black Creek die.”
Clara shook her head.
“Then don't let it die.”
He smiled.
“You make it sound simple.”
“It isn't.”
She stood.
“But simple things can still be hard.”
The next morning, they found the western fence destroyed.
Not broken by weather.
Cut.
Three cattle were missing.
Elias immediately knew.
“Crowe.”
Clara looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because he wants me desperate.”
They followed the tracks.
Two miles from the ranch, they found the cattle.
And beside them was a man.
He raised his hands.
“Don't shoot.”
Elias recognized him.
Samuel Pike.
Crowe's former foreman.
“What are you doing here?”
Samuel looked exhausted.
“I need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Your water.”
Elias lowered the rifle slightly.
Samuel continued.
“Crowe paid men to alter the county records.”
Clara stepped forward.
“Do you have proof?”
Samuel nodded.
He reached inside his coat.
He produced a folded ledger.
“Names.”
He handed it to Clara.
She opened it.
There were payments.
Dates.
Signatures.
Witnesses.
Everything they needed.
But there was one problem.
Samuel pointed toward the road.
“They know I took it.”
A gunshot echoed in the distance.
Elias grabbed Clara.