Ruth looked toward the darkening mesa.

“Because your father didn’t sell Mercer the water.”

She paused.

“He built it.”

That night, Norah couldn’t sleep.

She sat outside her small room with her father’s old brass rule in her hands.

Caleb found her there.

“You should rest.”

“I can’t.”

He sat beside her.

Neither spoke for a while.

Finally Norah said, “My father wasn’t just a water-station mechanic.”

“No.”

“He discovered the underground reservoir.”

“Yes.”

“He built the reserve.”

“Apparently.”

“And Mercer took it.”

Caleb looked toward the dark hills.

“Maybe.”

Norah laughed bitterly.

“You’re the first man I’ve met who says maybe when everyone else would say yes.”

“Maybe keeps you from making a mistake.”

She looked at him.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The answer came instantly.

That hurt more than hesitation would have.

“Why?”

“Because you could have left.”

“I had nowhere to go.”

“You had three miles of road behind you.”

She looked away.

“You didn’t ask me to stay.”

“No.”

“You didn’t ask me to trust you.”

“No.”

“You didn’t try to own me.”

“No.”

Norah’s voice broke.

“Why?”

Caleb looked at her.

“Because somebody already spent too many years telling you what you belonged to.”

Her eyes filled.

She looked down quickly.

Caleb stood.

“I’ll be in the barn.”

“Caleb.”

He stopped.

“Thank you.”

He nodded once.

Then walked away.

Norah watched him go.

For the first time in years, the word safe did not feel like a trap.

At dawn, the attack came.

A rifle cracked from the ridge.

A lantern shattered.

Horses screamed.

“DOWN!”

Caleb dragged Norah behind a wagon as bullets tore through the wooden side.

Men scattered across the yard.

Amos returned fire from the barn.

Ruth shoved children into the cellar.

Norah crawled toward the cookhouse.

Then she saw them.

Three riders.

One wore a gray coat.

The same man from the survey shed.

He shouted:

“Burn the records!”

Caleb heard him.

He fired.

The rider fell.

The other two turned and fled.

Norah ran toward the fallen man.

Caleb grabbed her.

“Don’t.”

“He’s alive.”

“He’ll shoot you.”

“He’s hurt.”

Caleb hesitated.

Then together they pulled the man into the barn.

He was young.

No more than thirty.

Blood soaked his shoulder.

Caleb searched him.

A packet fell from his coat.

Norah picked it up.

Inside was a legal document.

She unfolded it.

Her face went pale.

“What?”

She handed it to Caleb.

He read.

Then read it again.

The document transferred ownership of Dry Willow’s water reserve to Mercer.

But there was one condition.

The transfer became valid only if Dry Willow’s residents abandoned the settlement voluntarily.

Caleb looked up.

“He needs us gone.”

Norah nodded.

“And he can’t legally force us.”