“That was the survey.”
Samuel shook his head.
“Other side.”
With trembling fingers, I searched.
Another section of stitching.
I tore it open.
Something thicker slid into my hand.
A folded, waxed document.
Nathan stared.
The original Stanton County deed.
Samuel smiled faintly.
“I knew Victor would search the house.”
My throat tightened.
“But not your clothes?”
“He’d never notice anything worn by someone he considered beneath him.”
Even exhausted, Samuel had preserved his dry humor.
I kissed his forehead.
Then Nathan asked the question that mattered.
“Who brought food?”
Samuel’s smile vanished.
“Rusk.”
Jonah cursed.
Samuel nodded.
“He came every few days. Enough to keep us alive.”
“Why?”
“Victor still wanted the deed.”
Nathan stood.
“And Rusk just fled south.”
Samuel looked frightened.
“He’s going to Victor.”
“No.”
Nathan checked his revolver.
“He’s going somewhere else.”
I looked at him.
“Where?”
Nathan’s eyes settled on the other prisoners.
“He kept Samuel alive without Caldwell finding the deed for three months.”
Understanding struck me.
“Rusk wasn’t only working for Victor.”
Nathan nodded.
“Exactly.”
One of the other prisoners groaned.
Samuel pointed weakly.
“That man is Peter Weller.”
Jonah looked shocked.
“The surveyor?”
Everyone in Copper Ridge believed Weller had drowned the previous winter.
Samuel pointed toward the unconscious man.
“And Thomas Reed. County tax clerk.”
Nathan’s expression hardened.
Three men who knew pieces of the same secret.
All declared dead.
All hidden underground.
I whispered, “Rusk.”
Nathan nodded.
“Victor Caldwell may own the town.”
He looked toward the tunnel entrance.
“But somebody else has been protecting his secrets.”
We returned to Copper Ridge after dark.
And found the town surrounded.
Not by Victor’s men.
By soldiers.
United States cavalry.
Nearly forty mounted men occupied the street.
At their center sat Sheriff Emmett Rusk.
Wearing a federal marshal’s badge.
Nathan stopped his horse.
I stared at him.
“You said he was sheriff.”
“He is.”
“Then why is he wearing your badge?”
Nathan’s face had gone still.
A cavalry captain rode forward.
“Ellis?”
Nathan nodded.
The captain’s expression was grim.
“You’re under arrest.”
Jonah swore.
Nathan said, “On whose authority?”
Rusk smiled.
“Mine.”
The soldiers raised rifles.
Samuel sat weakly behind Jonah.
I clutched the deed beneath my coat.
Rusk dismounted.
“You always were persistent, Nathan.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
Rusk looked at me.
“Mrs. Hale. I’m pleased to see your husband survived.”
Samuel whispered, “Liar.”
Rusk smiled.
Then he revealed everything.
Victor Caldwell was powerful.
But provincial.
Greedy.
Predictable.
For years, Rusk had used Victor as a shield for a much larger operation.
Stolen cattle.
Fraudulent land claims.
Intercepted federal payments.
Copper shipped under false manifests.
Whenever investigators came too close, Rusk redirected suspicion toward Caldwell.
When necessary, witnesses disappeared.
Samuel had not uncovered one criminal empire.
He had uncovered two.
Nathan said quietly, “You forged the federal orders.”
Rusk nodded.
“Some.”
The cavalry captain stiffened.
Rusk continued before anyone could interrupt.
“Mr. Ellis has been operating outside authorization for weeks. His commission was suspended after the death of Agent Charles Mercer near El Paso.”
