“This is a schedule.”

“For what?”

She looked at them.

“Military ammunition shipments.”

Elias went white.

Corvin stared.

“They’re planning to steal them.”

“Not steal,” Elias whispered.

He pointed to another column.

“Replace.”

They would substitute defective ammunition.

Then provoke conflict.

Soldiers would die.

Settlements would panic.

A war could begin.

Blackstone would profit from supplying replacements.

Corvin felt nauseated.

“When?”

Nalin checked the date.

Her face tightened.

“Two days.”

Then a voice came from the darkness beyond the corral.

“Unfortunately, you’ve already missed your chance.”

Everyone turned.

Riders emerged.

Thirty.

Forty.

Perhaps sixty.

Armed men in dusters surrounded the ranch.

And at their front sat a thin elderly man with a white beard.

Corvin recognized him from a faded bank document.

Samuel Gann.

The supposedly dead owner of Corvin’s ranch.

Samuel smiled.

“Elias.”

Elias stepped forward.

“Samuel.”

“I wondered whether you’d finally crawl out of your canyon.”

Samuel’s gaze moved to Corvin.

“And there he is.

Little Corvin.”

Corvin raised his revolver.

“Don’t call me that.”

Samuel chuckled.

“You have your mother’s temper.”

The surrounding Apache warriors raised weapons.

Samuel’s men did the same.

A massacre balanced on a breath.

Samuel dismounted.

“Everyone relax.”

Nalin moved beside Corvin.

Samuel noticed her.

His smile vanished.

“So you’re the one who followed my riders.”

Nalin said nothing.

Samuel looked at Corvin.

“Give me the documents.”

“No.”

“Then everyone here dies.”

Corvin glanced at the ridges.

“You counted wrong.”

Samuel smiled.

“No.”

He lifted two fingers.

A rifle fired.

Not from Samuel’s men.

From the ridge.

An Apache warrior fell.

Chaos exploded.

Men shouted.

Horses reared.

Corvin grabbed Nalin.

“Traitor!”

Yiska screamed orders.

Two warriors on the ridge suddenly turned their rifles against their own people.

Then four more.

Corvin’s blood froze.

Samuel had bought men everywhere.

Gunfire erupted.

Corvin dragged Elias behind the stone well.

Bullets ripped through the yard.

The box of documents lay exposed.

Samuel ran toward it.

Nalin intercepted him.

She struck him hard enough to spin him sideways.

Samuel collapsed.

Nalin reached for the box.

A gun pressed against the back of her head.

Corvin froze.

Yiska held the weapon.

Nalin stared at her uncle.

“Why?”

Yiska’s face was filled with grief.

He spoke quietly.

Nalin’s eyes widened.

Corvin understood none of it.

“What did he say?”

Nalin whispered:

“He said he is sorry.”

Samuel rose, laughing.

“There it is.”

Corvin stared at Yiska.

Samuel dusted off his coat.

“Did you really think Blackstone survived fifty years through bookkeeping?”

Elias looked stricken.

“Yiska…”

Samuel smiled.

“Your old friend has been protecting something far more valuable than money.”

Nalin turned slowly toward her uncle.

Yiska lowered his eyes.

Then Samuel said the sentence that shattered everything.

“Tell them who started Blackstone.”

Elias’s face changed.

Corvin looked at his father.

“What?”

Samuel laughed.

“Oh, he never told you?”

Elias stood motionless.

“Dad?”

Samuel pointed.

“Blackstone Freight wasn’t founded by Augustus Blackstone.”

Corvin felt the world closing around him.

“Then who?”

Samuel smiled.

“Your father.”

Nobody moved.

Corvin stared at Elias.

“Tell me he’s lying.”

Elias’s silence answered.

Corvin stepped backward.

“No.”

“Corvin—”

“No.”

Samuel laughed.

“Elias Torne built the network.