Not Ayasha’s investigation.
Not his father’s guilt.
His.
Maverick turned back.
“I relinquish every personal claim attached to my father’s survey.”
A gasp moved through the room.
The judge stared.
“All of it?”
“All.”
“Why?”
Maverick looked toward the window.
Beyond the glass lay the Arizona sky.
Bright.
Limitless.
“The first time I saw that valley, I thought land belonged to whoever had the strongest paper.”
He looked at Lobo Negro.
“Then I learned paper can lie.”
He looked at Ayasha.
“And I learned a man can own thousands of acres and still have nowhere he belongs.”
His voice tightened.
“The valley already has people who belong to it.”
Silence.
“So no, Your Honor.”
Maverick placed the claim on the table.
“I don’t want what was never mine.”
The judge accepted the paper.
The hearing ended shortly afterward.
Outside the courthouse, Maverick stood beneath the porch.
He had done it.
Five years searching for land.
Three days crossing the desert.
A marriage.
A fire.
Blood.
And now?
He owned nothing.
Ayasha joined him.
“So.”
“So.”
“You surrendered it.”
“Yes.”
“All of it.”
“Yes.”
She stared at him.
Maverick smiled tiredly.
“Please don’t tell me this was another test.”
To his surprise, Ayasha laughed.
Then she began crying.
Maverick panicked.
“Ayasha?”
She covered her mouth.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“You are an impossible man.”
“I’ve been told worse.”
She pulled a folded envelope from inside her dress.
Maverick eyed it suspiciously.
“No.”
“What?”
“No more documents.”
“Maverick.”
“I have suffered enough because of paper.”
She pushed it into his hands.
“Open it.”
He groaned dramatically.
Then broke the seal.
Inside was a deed.
Maverick frowned.
He read the first line.
Then the second.
His heart stopped.
One hundred and sixty acres.
Northern ridge.
Spring access.
Grazing rights.
Registered in two names.
Maverick Cole and Ayasha Cole.
He looked at her.
“What is this?”
“A wedding gift.”
“From whom?”
“My father.”
Maverick stared toward Lobo Negro.
The chief stood several yards away.
Watching.
Smiling.
Maverick marched toward him.
“You told me marrying Ayasha meant the valley could become mine.”
“Yes.”
“You neglected to explain that you meant one hundred sixty acres.”
“You did not ask how much.”
Maverick opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Lobo Negro’s smile widened.
Maverick pointed accusingly.
“You enjoyed this.”
“Very much.”
Ayasha laughed behind him.
Maverick looked at the deed again.
One hundred and sixty acres.
A tiny fraction of what he had dreamed about.
And somehow it looked enormous.
Enough for cattle.
Enough for a house.
Enough for children.
Enough to build something without taking it from anyone else.
He turned to Ayasha.
“Did you know?”
She hesitated.
Maverick narrowed his eyes.
“Ayasha.”
“Since yesterday.”
He sighed.
“My wife cannot keep a secret for less than twenty-four hours.”
She smiled.
“I kept yours for a year.”
“That is not helping.”
Lobo Negro started walking away.
Then stopped.
“There is one more thing.”
Maverick groaned.
“No.”
The old chief turned.
His expression was different now.
Serious.
“You still believe Ayasha placed the map in your saddlebag six months ago.”
Maverick looked at his wife.
“She told me she did.”
“She did.”
Lobo Negro nodded.
“But she did not draw it.”
Maverick frowned.
“Then who did?”
The chief reached beneath his shirt.
He removed a small leather pouch.
From it he produced a folded piece of paper.
Old.
Yellow.
Maverick recognized the handwriting before he saw the signature.
His father’s.
His hands began trembling.
Lobo Negro gave him the letter.
Maverick unfolded it.
