“That isn’t better.”

“I would have reached water elsewhere if you refused.”

“You could’ve died.”

“So could people here.”

Corvin stepped closer.

“You had no right.”

Mara did not retreat.

“No.

We had necessity.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“No.”

For the first time, regret entered her voice.

“It does not.”

That answer disarmed him.

Corvin looked away.

Outside, a horse snorted.

Then a sound came from the southern ridge.

A rifle shot.

Every person in the cabin froze.

A second shot followed.

Not aimed at them.

Signal shots.

Kele moved toward the door.

Mara grabbed her rifle.

“What?”

Corvin demanded.

Mara looked back at him.

“Your visitors.”

The Red Meridian men arrived beneath a cloud of dust.

Thirty riders.

Then wagons.

Then another twenty armed men.

At their center rode a man in a pale suit under a black traveling coat, absurdly clean compared with everyone around him.

Ezra Vale.

Corvin had seen his face in newspapers.

He was younger than expected.

Perhaps forty-five.

Silver beginning at his temples.

A smile built for photographs.

Vale slowed his horse when he saw the ridges.

For the first time, uncertainty appeared on his face.

Three hundred mounted Apache men watched him.

Corvin stepped from the cabin.

Mara and Kele remained several paces behind.

Vale looked at Corvin.

“Mr.

Torne?”

“Yes.”

Vale smiled.

“Quite a gathering.”

“You brought one yourself.”

Vale glanced at his men.

“Surveyors.

Security.”

“Fifty armed surveyors?”

“The frontier encourages preparedness.”

Corvin almost smiled.

“So I’ve noticed.”

Vale dismounted.

A thickset man accompanied him carrying a leather document case.

Vale opened it.

“I’ll be concise.

Your ranch occupies land covered by mining claims filed before Gideon Torne purchased the property.”

“My deed says otherwise.”

“Your deed is incorrect.”

“Funny.

I was about to say the same about yours.”

Vale’s smile disappeared.

His gaze moved briefly toward Kele.

Then Mara.

Something strange happened.

He recognized her.

Only for an instant.

But Corvin saw it.

And Mara saw that Corvin saw it.

Vale looked away.

“Mr.

Torne, I am offering you eight thousand dollars for your cooperation.”

Corvin almost laughed.

His ranch was worth perhaps two thousand.

“You’re offering eight?”

“Ten, if we settle now.”

Corvin turned toward his well.

Then back.

“Must be remarkable dirt.”

Vale’s patience thinned.

“You are standing in the way of progress.”

“No.”

Corvin glanced at the three hundred riders.

“I think I’m standing in the way of thirsty people.”

Several of Vale’s armed men shifted.

Vale lowered his voice.

“You do understand what is happening here?”

“I’m beginning to.”

“Those people will not protect you after we leave.”

Mara stepped forward.

“They protected him before he was old enough to remember.”

Vale’s face went still.

Corvin looked at her.

Kele’s jaw tightened.

Vale stared at Corvin with a new expression.

Not irritation.

Recognition.

“My God,” Vale said quietly.

Corvin’s skin prickled.

“You know me?”

Vale seemed almost amused.

“No.”

He looked at Corvin’s eyes.

“Not you.”

Then he laughed softly.

“Her.”

He pointed at Mara.

“Now I understand.”

Mara raised her rifle.

Kele immediately said something sharp in his own language.

She lowered it slightly.

Vale’s smile returned.

“This becomes more interesting every minute.”

Corvin stepped between them.

“How do you know her?”

Vale did not answer.

Mara did.

“He knew my mother.”

Kele closed his eyes.

Corvin turned.

“What?”

Mara’s hands tightened around the rifle.

“Ezra Vale came to our settlement twenty-three years ago.”

Vale sighed.

“Careful.”

Mara ignored him.

“He was not rich then.”