“My name is Sela.”
Corvin nodded.
“Corvin Torne.”
“I knew your name before yesterday.”
That bothered him more than the riflemen.
“How?”
Instead of answering, Sela knelt beside her brother.
She lifted Corvin’s knife.
The blade had been cleaned, but dark staining remained where steel met wood.
“We found this beside him.”
“Then somebody wanted you to find it.”
“Yes.”
Corvin stared at her.
“You believe me?”
“I did not yesterday.”
Her gaze moved toward the well.
“Then a thirsty woman came to your fence.”
Understanding came slowly.
“You were testing me?”
Sela’s expression hardened.
“No.”
She touched the wound on her forehead.
“The men who killed my brother hunted me for fourteen miles. My horse died. I had not drunk since morning.”
She paused.
“But when you saw me, you did not reach for your rifle.”
Corvin said nothing.
“You did not ask what band I belonged to. You did not ask whether my people had taken cattle. You did not ask for payment.”
Sela held his gaze.
“You gave water.”
The old warrior behind her spoke again.
This time Sela answered in English.
“My father says a man’s first choice is often more truthful than his second.”
The older man was her father.
Corvin looked at the warriors.
“So what happens now?”
Sela picked up the knife.
“Now we discover who wanted my people to believe that Corvin Torne murdered the son of Beyan.”
Before Corvin could answer, a rifle shot cracked from somewhere beyond the southern hill.
Every Apache rider moved at once.
Rifles came up.
Horses turned.
Corvin instinctively dropped one hand toward his revolver.
Sela seized his wrist.
“Do not.”
Another shot echoed.
Then came hoofbeats.
White riders appeared from the southern road.
Twenty men.
Then thirty.
At their front rode a broad man in a cream-colored hat.
Corvin recognized him immediately.
Ransom Pike.
Pike owned more cattle than anyone within a hundred miles.
He also wanted Corvin’s ranch.
Specifically, he wanted the well.
For three years, Pike had offered money.
For three years, Corvin had refused.
Pike rode within shouting distance and stopped dead when he saw the Apache warriors surrounding the ranch.
“Good God, Torne!”
His men spread out.
Pike raised his rifle.
“Get away from them!”
Corvin stepped forward.
“Lower the gun.”
Pike stared as though Corvin had lost his mind.
“They’ve surrounded your ranch!”
“So have you.”
“These people killed three drovers north of Red Mesa.”
Sela’s eyes narrowed.
Pike noticed her.
Something flickered across his face.
Recognition.
Very brief.
But Corvin saw it.
More importantly, Sela saw it.
Her entire body changed.
Not visibly enough that Pike would notice.
But Corvin felt her attention sharpen beside him like a blade.
“You know her?” Corvin called.
Pike hesitated.
“No.”
Sela spoke quietly.
“He lies.”
Pike’s jaw tightened.
“Get inside, Corvin. Captain Crowe’s bringing cavalry from Fort Mason. We’ve had attacks everywhere.”
Sela turned toward Corvin.
“Captain Crowe?”
Corvin nodded.
“Elias Crowe. I’ve known him since we were boys.”
For the first time since arriving, genuine alarm entered Sela’s face.
“When will he come?”
“Soon, if Pike’s telling the truth.”
