Rain hammered the roof.
Lightning split the sky.
Eli was waiting beside the stove.
She told him everything.
The investigator.
The explosives.
The dam.
The coming disaster.
Eli spread the map across the kitchen table.
“How much time?”
“Margaret says Dugan plans to set the charges tomorrow.”
Eli examined the markings.
“Then we warn the valley tonight.”
He had barely spoken when a distant gunshot echoed through the rain.
Then another.
A horse screamed.
Eli reached for his rifle.
Outside, orange light appeared between the trees.
Torches.
Dozens of them.
Riders emerged through the storm.
Sheriff Dugan rode at their center.
Behind him came nearly thirty armed men.
Eli stepped onto the porch.
Rain poured from his hat brim.
Nara stood behind him, holding a shotgun.
Dugan raised one hand.
“Ward!”
Eli lifted his rifle.
“You’re trespassing.”
Dugan laughed.
“You’re harboring a wanted murderer.”
“Then show me a lawful warrant.”
“I am the law!”
Eli’s voice cut through the rain.
“No, Silas. You’re a thief wearing a badge.”
The sheriff’s expression darkened.
“You always were an ungrateful little bastard.”
Eli went still.
Dugan smiled.
“Ah. So you’ve found out.”
The men behind him exchanged confused looks.
Dugan leaned forward in his saddle.
“Your precious father bought you for less than a decent horse. Did you know that?”
Eli said nothing.
“Your people were nothing but trouble. Your father gave you a home. A name. A future.”
Eli’s hands tightened around the rifle.
“And you killed my family.”
Dugan’s smile disappeared.
For the first time, the sheriff looked uncertain.
“Bell talked?”
“Before your man shot him.”
Dugan spat into the mud.
“That doctor never knew when to shut his mouth.”
Nara stepped forward.
“You burned our homes. Sold our children. Stole our land.”
Dugan looked at her.
Then his face changed.
Recognition.
Real recognition.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
He stared at Nara.
“Seya’s blood.”
Nara raised her shotgun.
Dugan laughed.
“Your grandmother was a stubborn old woman. Thought she could bring me down with a handful of papers.”
“She remembered every name,” Nara said.
“Then she died remembering.”
Eli stepped between them.
“Leave.”
Dugan drew his revolver.
“Last chance, Ward. Hand her over.”
“No.”
“Then burn the house!”
A torch flew through the rain.
It struck the porch railing.
Another landed near the barn.
A rifle cracked.
Wood splintered beside Eli’s head.
He fired.
One rider fell from his saddle.
The yard erupted.
Men shouted.
Horses reared.
Bullets tore through the cabin walls.
Eli dragged Nara inside.
“Cellar!”
“I’m not leaving you!”
“Get the records!”
A bullet shattered the kitchen lamp.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Then a voice shouted from outside.
“Hold your fire!”
Dugan.
The gunfire stopped.
For several seconds, only rain could be heard.
Then the sheriff called:
“Eli! I’ve got something you might want to see!”
Eli moved toward the window.
Two deputies dragged a bound figure into the torchlight.
Margaret Vale.
Her face was bruised.
Blood ran down one temple.
Dugan pressed a revolver against her head.
“Come out,” he shouted, “or she dies!”
Chapter Eleven: The Shot Nobody Expected
Nara gripped Eli’s arm.
“It’s a trap.”
“I know.”
“He’ll kill you.”
“Probably.”
She looked at him.
“Then don’t go.”
Eli glanced toward the old cradle.
For eight years, he had imagined that courage meant being willing to die.
Now, with Nara beside him, he understood something different.
Courage sometimes meant finding a reason to survive.
He handed her his rifle.
“There’s a narrow window in the loft. You can see the sheriff from there.”
Nara stared.
“What are you going to do?”
“Keep him talking.”
“Eli—”
“Trust me.”
He stepped onto the porch with his hands raised.
Dugan grinned.
“There’s my reasonable friend.”
“Let her go.”
“Throw down your gun.”
“I haven’t got one.”
“Then come closer.”
Eli descended the steps.
Mud swallowed his boots.
Dugan watched him approach.
“Always knew you’d turn against me someday.”
“You should have killed me when you had the chance.”
Dugan shrugged.
“Your father paid good money. Besides, I thought you might be useful.”
Eli stopped.
“Useful?”
“Who do you think kept that ranch in your family?”
Eli stared.
Dugan smiled.
“The eastern boundary runs straight across the richest silver vein in the territory. Your father knew it. So did I.”
Eli’s mind raced.
His ranch.
The mine.
The disputed land.
Suddenly, the sheriff’s determination to control him made sense.
Dugan continued.
“Your father was supposed to transfer the property before he died. But the old fool developed a conscience.”
“What happened?”
“He hid the deed.”
Eli frowned.
“What deed?”
“The original deed. The one proving your land was never legally his.”
Eli’s heart pounded.
Dugan leaned closer.
“That ranch belonged to an Apache family before your father ever set foot on it.”
Nara appeared in the loft window.
Her rifle rested against the frame.
Dugan did not see her.
Eli kept talking.
“Whose family?”
Dugan laughed.
“Yours.”
For a moment, Eli could not speak.
