Some faces did not age.
They merely hardened.
Crowell surveyed the ridges.
Hundreds of Apache warriors watched from above.
He smiled.
“Quite a reunion.”
Corvin walked forward.
Talani moved beside him.
Crowell’s smile widened.
“Lieutenant Vale.”
Corvin said nothing.
“You look disappointed.”
“I watched you burn.”
“You should have checked the ashes.”
Crowell glanced toward Talani.
“And Nalin’s child, I assume.”
Talani’s hand tightened around her rifle.
Crowell chuckled.
“Your mother had the same eyes.”
Corvin stepped between them.
“Don’t speak about her.”
Crowell looked delighted.
“There he is.”
“Why are you here?”
“To arrest a fugitive.”
“For desertion?”
“For murder.”
Crowell raised his voice so the Apache warriors could hear.
“Elias Vale murdered American soldiers, aided hostile Indians, destroyed federal property, and fled military justice.”
Corvin stared at him.
“You sold prisoners.”
Crowell smiled.
“Can you prove it?”
“Yes.”
That smile disappeared.
Corvin saw fear.
Only for an instant.
But it was there.
Crowell recovered quickly.
“Then I suppose we both know what comes next.”
The deputies shifted nervously.
They had not expected hundreds of armed warriors.
Crowell turned toward Talani’s father.
“You shelter a wanted murderer, I’ll have every soldier between here and Tucson riding into these hills.”
The old Apache leader answered calmly.
“Then many will die.”
Crowell’s face tightened.
Corvin understood the trap.
If Apache warriors attacked federal officers, Crowell would get exactly what he wanted.
War.
Retaliation.
Dead witnesses.
Destroyed evidence.
Corvin turned to Talani’s father.
“No fighting.”
Talani stared at him.
Crowell smiled.
“Still idealistic after all these years.”
Corvin looked at the deputies.
“I’ll surrender.”
Talani grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“If they attack here, he wins.”
“He’ll kill you.”
“Not immediately.”
Crowell laughed softly.
Corvin looked at Talani.
“Trust me.”
She stared at him.
“You told my mother that once.”
The words cut deeply.
Corvin answered, “Then maybe this time I can deserve it.”
He walked toward Crowell.
The handcuffs closed around Corvin’s wrists.
Crowell ordered his men to search the cabin.
They tore through drawers.
Split open the mattress.
Pulled books from shelves.
Then one deputy found the loose floorboard.
Crowell personally lifted the metal box.
For seventeen years, Corvin had imagined that moment.
He expected fury.
Instead, Crowell looked almost relieved.
He opened the box.
Empty.
Crowell’s face changed.
He turned slowly toward Corvin.
“Where are they?”
Corvin smiled.
“For a judge, you’re not very observant.”
Crowell struck him.
Corvin fell against the porch.
Talani raised her rifle.
Hundreds of Apache warriors immediately followed.
Crowell’s men panicked.
“Stand down!”
Corvin shouted.
Talani’s father barked an order.
Weapons remained raised but no one fired.
Crowell grabbed Corvin by his shirt.
