Every homestead.

Several settlements.

Seasonal grazing routes.

Thousands of acres whose owners could survive only while water continued crossing property Voss intended to control.

Eli looked at the unsigned contract.

The enormous price suddenly made sense.

Voss had never been generous.

He had been trying to purchase a kingdom for the price of one lonely man’s ranch.

“Does Voss know I’m Miriam’s son?”

Chaska’s expression answered before her voice did.

“Yes.”

The hurt became rage.

For years Voss had known.

Four offers.

Four attempts.

Increasing money every time.

Never one word about Miriam.

Eli’s fist struck the table.

The cups jumped.

“Why didn’t he simply steal the shares?”

“Because your mother’s will is specific,” Serina said. “Her inherited interests cannot transfer until your identity is legally established.”

“The contract establishes it?”

“Your full name appears alongside sworn declarations identifying you as Miriam Mercer’s sole surviving heir.”

Eli looked at the paper differently now.

He had thought the pages proved his ownership of the ranch.

They were actually proving his identity.

Then giving away everything that identity unlocked.

Chaska sat opposite him.

“There is something else.”

Eli let out a humorless breath.

“Of course there is.”

“Your mother knew Voss was buying the valley.”

“And?”

“She made a proposal before she died.”

“A proposal to whom?”

Chaska pushed another document across the table.

“To you.”

The charter was unfinished.

Miriam had called it The Red Willow Covenant.

Her proposal was simple enough to describe and radical enough to make Eli read it three times.

Her shares would pass to him.

But she hoped he would place them into a permanent trust with several other shareholders.

No single rancher.

No company.

No wealthy buyer.

The water would be governed collectively by those who depended upon it—settlers, ranchers, farmers, and native families who had used those routes long before territorial lines were drawn.

Chaska, Waya, and Serina had spent five years finding shareholders willing to join.

Some had signed.

Others had refused.

Together, if Eli added Miriam’s twenty-three percent, the covenant would control fifty-one percent.

Exactly enough.

Eli stared at them.

“So that’s your proposal.”

Chaska nodded.

“You came all this way to ask me to give away my inheritance.”

“No.”

She leaned forward.

“We came to ask you what kind of man you want to be now that you know you have one.”

That silenced him.

Waya crossed her arms.

“You once risked your life for three strangers.”

A faint smile touched her mouth.

“We thought perhaps you could risk being inconvenienced for several hundred.”

Despite everything, Eli laughed.

Chaska did too.

Then the sound of horses came from outside.

Many horses.

Waya reached the window first.

“Six riders.”

Eli joined her.

Moonlight showed men approaching.

At their center rode a man in a cream-colored hat.

Harlan Voss.

Voss was fifty-two, silver-haired and soft-spoken, with the polished manners of a man who preferred other people to perform his violence.

He dismounted alone.

The remaining riders stayed near the gate.

Eli walked outside.

Chaska followed.

Then Waya.

Then Serina carrying the satchel.

Voss saw the women.

For the first time since Eli had known him, his smile failed.

Only for a second.

But it failed.

“Mr. Mercer.”

“Harlan.”

“I hoped you had considered my offer.”

“I have.”

Voss’s eyes moved toward the house.