She drank slowly.
Corvin watched.
She took only small mouthfuls.
That told him she knew the desert.
She understood that drinking too quickly after severe dehydration could kill as easily as thirst.
When the cup was empty, she held it out.
Corvin filled it again.
She drank.
Then a third time.
After that, she leaned against the fence.
Her breathing became steadier.
Corvin crouched.
"You need a doctor."
The woman ignored him.
"You can stay here until dark."
Still nothing.
"You don't have to trust me."
That finally got a reaction.
Her eyes met his.
For a moment, Corvin felt as if she were looking through him.
Then she slowly pushed herself upright.
She was taller than he expected.
Much taller.
She stood unsteadily, one hand gripping the fence.
Corvin instinctively stepped forward.
She raised her hand.
He stopped.
"I understand," he said.
She looked at the cup.
Then at the well.
Then back at Corvin.
She placed her hand against her chest.
"Tazhaa."
Corvin repeated the name.
"Tazhaa."
She nodded once.
Then turned toward the northern hills.
Corvin frowned.
"You can't walk that far."
She did anyway.
For several minutes, she moved through the dust.
Then she disappeared behind a ridge.
Corvin stood there holding the empty cup.
He expected that to be the end of it.
He was wrong.
That night, Corvin wrote in his leather ledger:
Today I found a wounded Apache woman near the west fence. Her name was Tazhaa. I gave her water. She left before sunset.
He closed the book.
Outside, the desert was silent.
But far beyond the northern ridge, another fire was being lit.
And around that fire, men were speaking Corvin's name.
Because Tazhaa had survived.
And she had seen something in the desert that Corvin had not.
Harlan Vance was coming for Cold Springs.
And he was not coming alone.
The following morning began strangely.
Corvin noticed it before sunrise.
His horses were restless.
The cattle had gathered near the eastern fence.
Even the birds were unusually quiet.
He stepped outside with his rifle.
Nothing moved.
The mountains looked empty.
But Corvin had spent too many years scouting to trust empty mountains.
He walked to the well.
A folded piece of paper lay beside it.
He picked it up.
There were only six words.
SELL THE RANCH OR DIE HERE.
Corvin stared at the message.
Then he laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because he had expected it.
Harlan Vance had never been a man who accepted refusal.
Corvin folded the paper and put it in his pocket.
He had barely returned to the cabin when he heard horses.
Three riders approached from the south.
At their center rode a thin man wearing an expensive black coat.
Corvin recognized him immediately.
Elias Mercer.
Vance's attorney.
Mercer dismounted and approached the porch.
"Mr. Torne."
"Mercer."
"I have another offer."
"You've already made three."
"This one is different."
Corvin leaned against the porch post.
"How?"
"You receive ten thousand dollars."
Corvin laughed.
"Yesterday it was seven."
"Mr. Vance is feeling generous."
"Tell him to feel something else."
Mercer smiled.
"You should think carefully."
"I have."
"You own three hundred acres of difficult land."
"I know."
"You have no family."
"I know."
"No neighbors willing to defend you."
"I know."
Mercer's smile disappeared.
"Then why are you making this difficult?"
Corvin looked at the spring.
"Because water belongs to whoever needs it."
Mercer followed his gaze.
"You believe that's how the world works?"
"No."
Corvin looked him directly in the eyes.
"I believe that's how it should work."
Mercer mounted his horse.
"You will regret this."
Corvin watched the three men ride away.
Then he noticed something on the road.
A fourth horse had been waiting behind the hill.
Someone had been watching.
Corvin's instincts sharpened.
He returned inside.
His rifle was cleaned.
His ammunition counted.
His horses moved into the protected corral.
He spent the rest of the morning preparing for trouble.
But trouble did not arrive that day.
Nor the next.
Instead, something stranger happened.
At sunset on the third day, Corvin found a small bundle hanging from his western fence.
Inside was a strip of clean cloth and a handful of dried herbs.
No message.
No explanation.
Corvin understood.
Tazhaa had returned.