Ayasha stood outside the cabin.
“You are leaving.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maverick.”
He tightened the saddle strap.
“I can’t tell which part of my life is true anymore.”
“I understand.”
“No.
You don’t.”
Her chin lifted.
“My father may have been a thief.
The man who murdered him just offered me everything I’ve wanted since I was twelve.
And my wife married me partly because my surname looked useful on court papers.”
Ayasha said nothing.
Maverick mounted.
Then he looked down at her.
For the first time since lifting the veil, he truly saw fear on her face.
Not fear that he hated her scars.
Fear that he was leaving.
His anger almost broke.
Almost.
“I need to know who I am when nobody is testing me.”
Then he rode north.
He made it seven miles.
That was where he saw smoke.
Not campfire smoke.
Too dark.
Too thick.
Rising from the valley.
Maverick wheeled his horse so violently the animal nearly fell.
He rode back at a dead run.
By the time he reached the ridge, flames had swallowed the western cottonwoods.
Men on horseback were driving cattle through the camp.
Gunshots cracked.
Women and children were moving toward the river.
Rourke’s men.
The injunction had been a distraction.
If the records vanished and the camp scattered, there would be far less to contest.
Maverick drew his rifle.
Then he saw Ayasha.
She was running toward a burning shelter.
“Ayasha!”
She did not hear him.
A child screamed inside.
Maverick’s blood turned to ice.
Fourteen years old.
A burning shelter.
Two children.
The story she had told him.
Not again.
He spurred forward.
Ayasha disappeared into the smoke.
Maverick jumped from his horse and ran after her.
Inside, heat struck him like a hammer.
“Ayasha!”
“I have him!”
She appeared through the smoke carrying a little boy.
A burning roof beam cracked above them.
Maverick shoved Ayasha forward.
The beam collapsed.
Pain exploded across his shoulder.
He hit the ground.
Ayasha screamed his name.
Together they crawled out seconds before the shelter collapsed.
She dragged him toward the river.
Maverick coughed until his chest tore.
Ayasha grabbed his face between both hands.
“Look at me.”
“I’m looking.”
“You left.”
“I came back.”
Tears cut clean lines through soot on her face.
“Why?”
Maverick stared at her.
Around them the valley burned.
Gunshots echoed.
Men shouted.
His father’s secrets remained unanswered.
His claim remained unresolved.
But suddenly one thing was simple.
“Because the land stopped being the reason.”
Ayasha’s lips parted.
Maverick kissed her.
There in the smoke.
Beside a burning cottonwood.
While half the valley watched the world they loved fight for survival.
Then Maverick stood.
“And now,” he said, picking up his rifle, “I’m going to deal with Rourke.”
They found Silas Rourke near the old survey station.
Maverick recognized the place from his father’s map.
Rourke was inside, tearing through a stone storage room while two men guarded the entrance.
He was searching for something.
Proof.
Maverick and three warriors approached through the rocks while Ayasha circled behind.
The fight lasted less than two minutes.
One gunman fled.
Another surrendered after Maverick shot the pistol from his hand.
Rourke barricaded himself inside.
Maverick entered.
The old man stood beside an open wooden chest.
His expression was furious.
“You foolish bastard.”
Maverick raised his rifle.
“What are you looking for?”
“Nothing.”
“Then step away from the chest.”
Rourke smiled.
“You really think these people will give you anything once I’m gone?”
