“May we speak privately?”

“No.”

A pause.

Then the smile returned.

“I see.”

“Did you know my mother?”

That did it.

Voss’s entire face emptied.

Eli stepped closer.

“Did you?”

Voss sighed.

“I knew Miriam.”

“You knew she was alive.”

“Yes.”

“You knew she died five years ago.”

“Yes.”

“You knew I was her son.”

“I suspected.”

“You knew.”

Voss removed his hat.

“Eli, there are matters of business—”

Eli grabbed the front of his coat.

The riders near the gate moved.

Waya’s bow appeared in her hands so smoothly that nobody saw her reach for it.

Every rider stopped.

Voss looked down at Eli’s fist.

“Violence would complicate your position considerably.”

Eli released him.

“Then explain.”

Voss straightened his coat.

“Your mother possessed something she did not understand.”

“She understood it well enough to keep you from having it.”

Anger flashed.

There.

At last.

The real Harlan Voss.

“Miriam was sentimental.”

“She was my mother.”

“And I knew her longer than you did.”

Eli went still.

Voss seemed to realize he had said too much.

“What does that mean?”

No answer.

“Harlan.”

Voss looked toward Chaska.

Then the satchel.

“You have the will.”

Serina said nothing.

“You should be careful carrying papers whose legal status remains doubtful.”

“The probate judge disagreed,” she replied.

Voss’s face changed again.

Only slightly.

But Eli noticed.

“You’ve been to the courthouse.”

“This morning,” Chaska said.

Voss turned toward Eli.

“Sign the contract tonight. I will double the offer.”

Eli almost laughed.

“Double?”

“Cash.”

“You came here with enough cash to double it?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“No.”

“Think carefully.”

“I just did.”

Voss stepped closer.

“Men often confuse moral satisfaction with wisdom.”

“And men like you confuse money with ownership.”

Voss’s voice dropped.

“This valley is going to change whether you approve or not. Rail lines are being surveyed. Cattle operations are expanding. Towns are coming. Industry is coming. Water cannot remain controlled by sentimental agreements between farmers who cannot see ten miles beyond their fences.”

“And you can?”

“Yes.”

The answer contained no embarrassment.

Voss truly believed it.

Perhaps that was what made him dangerous.

He placed his hat back on his head.

“By noon tomorrow, my offer disappears.”

“So does my interest.”

Voss turned toward his horse.

Then he stopped.

“Ask your friends how well paper protects people in this territory.”

Waya drew the bowstring halfway.

Chaska raised one hand.

Waya relaxed it.

Voss smiled.

He mounted.

His riders followed him into the darkness.

Nobody spoke until the hoofbeats disappeared.

Then Serina whispered, “He is frightened.”

Eli looked at her.

“So am I.”

Waya put away the arrow.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Fear keeps sensible people alive.”

She looked toward the road.

“The trick is not letting frightened men decide what you do next.”

At sunrise, Gideon arrived bleeding.

Nell rode behind him.

The old man’s left eye was swollen shut.

Eli ran toward them.

“What happened?”

Gideon climbed down painfully.

“Voss’s boys came asking whether I’d seen three Apache women.”

Nell jumped from the saddle.

Her face was white with rage.

“Grandfather told them it wasn’t their concern.”

Gideon wiped blood from his mouth.

“They disagreed.”

Eli’s anger returned so violently that he started toward Calico.

Gideon caught his arm.

“Don’t be stupid before breakfast.”

“They beat you.”

“And I’ve been beaten by better men.”