A funeral.
A man standing beside his grieving mother.
A hand on young Maverick’s shoulder.
“Your father was a good worker, boy.”
Maverick went cold.
“You.”
Rourke smiled.
“I wondered whether you’d remember.”
Ayasha stood beside Maverick.
Lobo Negro and several warriors formed a line behind them.
The marshal unfolded papers.
Rourke looked toward the river.
“Beautiful property.”
Maverick’s jaw tightened.
“What do you want?”
“What belongs to me.”
“The valley?”
“More accurately, what belongs to you.”
Rourke smiled.
“That claim bears your father’s name.”
Ayasha stepped forward.
“Fraudulently.”
Rourke’s eyes passed over her scars without reaction.
“Still playing clerk, Ayasha?”
Maverick moved between them.
“You know my wife?”
“Better than you do, apparently.”
Ayasha’s body stiffened.
Maverick heard the insult.
He did not take the bait.
Rourke produced a folded document.
“Your father filed a claim on eleven thousand acres.”
“He didn’t.”
“No?”
Rourke handed Maverick the paper.
His father’s signature appeared at the bottom.
Elias Cole.
Maverick stared.
Ayasha moved beside him.
“It can be forged.”
Rourke shrugged.
“Perhaps.”
Then he produced another sheet.
“And this?”
A personal letter.
My dear Margaret…
Maverick recognized his father’s handwriting immediately.
He read.
His stomach turned.
The letter discussed securing “the entire valley” before Rourke’s investors arrived.
A sentence near the bottom made Maverick’s hands shake.
Once the claim is complete, our family will never be poor again.
Maverick looked at Ayasha.
Her face had lost color.
She had never seen the letter.
Rourke smiled.
“Your heroic father was my partner.”
“No.”
“He helped survey the valley.”
“No.”
“He intended to own half.”
“You murdered him.”
Rourke tilted his head.
“Did your new wife tell you that?”
Maverick said nothing.
“I see.”
Rourke tapped his cane against the earth.
“Elias became frightened near the end.
Wanted to abandon the arrangement.
Unfortunately, accidents happen.”
Maverick lunged.
Three guns rose.
Ayasha grabbed his arm.
“Do not.”
Rourke smiled.
“At least she has sense.”
Maverick shook with rage.
The marshal cleared his throat.
“I have an injunction.
No permanent transfer of the disputed property can occur until the claim is reviewed.”
“What does that mean?”
Maverick asked.
Rourke answered for him.
“It means you have a choice.”
He looked toward Lobo Negro.
“Recognize your inheritance and cooperate with me.
Half the valley becomes yours immediately.”
Maverick stared.
Half.
Thousands of acres.
More wealth than he had imagined possessing in ten lifetimes.
“And if I refuse?”
Rourke smiled.
“Then the courts decide.”
He turned.
Before mounting his horse, he glanced back.
“Oh, one more thing.”
His eyes settled on Ayasha.
“Ask your wife why she truly married you.”
Then he rode away.
Maverick waited until the riders vanished.
Only then did he turn.
Ayasha was staring at the ground.
His heart sank.
“No.”
She closed her eyes.
“Ayasha.”
“I intended to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
She looked up.
“Marriage gives me standing in the claim.”
The words struck like a fist.
“What?”
“If you asserted ownership as Elias Cole’s heir, as your wife I could petition alongside you.
I could enter evidence.
Challenge Rourke.”
Maverick stepped backward.
“So that was why.”
“At first.”
“At first?”
“Yes.”
“You married me to get into a courtroom.”
“I married you because we needed—”
“You needed my name.”
“Maverick—”
“Was any of it real?”
Her face crumpled.
That should have answered him.
But he was too hurt to see it.
He walked away.
Maverick packed before sunset.
One saddlebag.
Blanket.
Rifle.
Fifty-three dollars, still nearly untouched.
The same things he had arrived with.
