"That is the same thing."
"No."
Caleb stared at the ground.
"I dug."
Awan smiled.
"You make important things sound ordinary."
Caleb didn't answer.
Then he noticed something.
Awan followed his gaze.
"What?"
Caleb pointed toward the ridge.
"Tracks."
Awan stood.
They walked together.
Fresh wagon tracks crossed the northern slope.
There were also horse tracks.
Caleb crouched.
He touched the dirt.
"Recent."
"How recent?"
"Two days."
Awan's expression hardened.
Caleb followed the tracks.
They led toward a rocky outcrop.
There, he found something else.
A piece of blackened stone.
He picked it up.
It smelled faintly of powder.
Caleb looked toward the old spring.
Then toward the rocks.
Someone had used explosives.
Not to search for water.
To destroy it.
He walked farther.
Behind the rocks was a narrow fracture in the sandstone.
The original underground channel had been broken.
Large stones had been packed into it.
Someone had deliberately blocked the water.
Caleb stared.
Awan came closer.
"Who?"
Caleb shook his head.
"I don't know."
Then he found something caught beneath a rock.
A horseshoe.
Stamped into the metal was a symbol.
Caleb recognized it.
He had seen the mark before.
At the Barrow Ranch.
On cattle sold through a neighboring company.
The Rourke brand.
Caleb slowly stood.
Awan watched him.
"You know that mark."
"Yes."
"Who does it belong to?"
Caleb looked toward the distant northern ridge.
"Silas Rourke."
Awan's expression became cold.
Caleb understood.
"You already suspected him."
Awan didn't deny it.
"He has wanted this valley for years."
"Why?"
"Because there is something beneath it."
"Gold?"
Awan shook his head.
"Water."
Caleb looked at the new spring.
Then at the blocked channel.
Awan continued:
"Rourke believes that if we leave, he can claim the valley."
Caleb was silent.
A distant light appeared on the ridge.
A lantern.
Someone was watching.
Caleb immediately stood.
The light disappeared.
Awan reached for his rifle.
Caleb stopped him.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because whoever that is knows we found the water."
The chief looked at him.
"And?"
Caleb looked toward the dark horizon.
"And tomorrow, they will come."
He returned to the camp before dawn.
But he did not sleep.
He sat beside the new well and listened to the water.
Drop.
Drop.
Drop.
Each sound was small.
Almost meaningless.
Yet beneath the earth, something ancient was moving again.
By sunrise, the camp had water.
By noon, it would have hope.
And by sunset, Caleb knew, it would have an enemy.
Because somewhere beyond the ridge, Silas Rourke had already received the news.
The stranger had found the hidden water.
And Rourke had spent too many years trying to own that valley to let one exhausted cowboy with a shovel take it away from him.
By sunrise, Caleb Mercer had already decided that he didn't like Silas Rourke.
He had never met the man.
That almost made the feeling more interesting.
Caleb had spent enough years around cattlemen, gamblers, ranch owners, soldiers, drifters and thieves to understand that a person's reputation rarely told the whole truth.
But tracks did.
Tools did.
Broken fences did.
And a blocked water channel buried beneath several tons of carefully placed stone told more truth than any man could speak.
Caleb sat beside the new well with his back against a sandstone boulder.
The camp was beginning to wake.
Women carried clay pots toward the water.
Children gathered around the edge of the excavation, fascinated by the small stream that had appeared from nowhere.
Men worked to strengthen the walls.
Awan stood nearby, watching everyone.
For the first time since Caleb had entered the valley, the old chief looked less like a man waiting for death and more like a man making plans.
That alone told Caleb how important the water was.
Awan walked over.
"You did not sleep."
Caleb rubbed his eyes.
"Neither did you."
"I am older."
"That's not an excuse."
Awan smiled.
"You are stubborn."
"I've heard that before."
"From your father?"
Caleb looked at him.
Awan waited.
Caleb finally nodded.
"He said it often."
"What happened to him?"
Caleb looked toward the mountains.
"He died."
Awan didn't ask how.
Some questions were better left alone.
Instead, he pointed toward the well.
"How much water?"
"Enough for drinking."
"For how long?"
"If we protect it, maybe forever."
Awan's expression changed.
"Forever?"
Caleb shook his head.
"Nothing lasts forever."
Awan looked disappointed.
Caleb continued:
"But underground water can survive droughts that kill everything on the surface."
"Then we stay."
Caleb nodded.
"That's what I expected."
Awan studied him.
"You think Rourke will come."
"I know he will."
"Why?"
Caleb pointed toward the ridge.
"Because whoever blocked your spring spent money and labor doing it."
He pointed toward the excavation.
"And now their work has been undone."
Awan nodded slowly.
"You understand men."
"I understand greed."
"Is there a difference?"
Caleb smiled.
"Not much."
By midmorning, the entire camp knew there was water.
The change was almost frightening.
Children who had barely moved the previous day were running.
Women began preparing food.
Someone managed to find a small amount of dried corn.
Another family brought the last pieces of meat they had been saving.
The first meal cooked beside the spring in weeks.
Caleb stood away from everyone.
He watched.
Mara approached him.
Her son Eli was walking beside her.
The boy looked healthier already.
Mara held out a bowl.
Caleb looked at it.
"What is this?"
"Food."
"I can see that."
"Then eat."
Caleb accepted it.
Beans.
A little meat.
Some corn.
It wasn't much.
It was probably the most valuable meal in the valley.
He ate slowly.
Eli watched him.
Caleb looked at the boy.
"What?"
Eli pointed toward Caleb's shovel.
"You found the water."
Caleb swallowed.
"Sort of."
"Are you a water finder?"
"No."
"Then what are you?"
Caleb thought about it.
"A cowboy."
Eli frowned.
"What's a cowboy?"
Caleb laughed.
"That's a very long answer."
Eli waited.
Caleb looked at the boy's serious expression.
"A cowboy takes care of things that can't take care of themselves."
Eli considered this.
"Like horses?"
"Yes."
"Like cows?"
"Yes."
Eli pointed toward the spring.
"Like water?"
Caleb smiled.
"Sometimes."
Eli nodded as though the matter were settled.
Then he ran away.
Mara watched him.
"He likes you."
"Children have poor judgment."
She smiled.
"Perhaps."
The peaceful morning lasted until noon.
Then Nokan returned from the northern ridge.
He rode hard.
His horse was covered in dust.
Awan met him before he reached the center of camp.
Nokan dismounted.
"Rourke."
The word was enough.
Everyone became silent.
Awan asked:
"How many?"
"Four riders."
"Armed?"
"Yes."
"Coming here?"
Nokan nodded.
"They are already on the road."
Caleb looked toward the northern ridge.
"How long?"
"An hour."
Caleb stood.
"Then we have an hour."
Awan turned to him.
"For what?"
"To decide what we want."
Awan frowned.
"We want water."
"No."
Caleb shook his head.
"You want to keep the water."
Awan understood.
"Yes."
"Then you need more than a hole in the ground."
Caleb walked toward the center of camp.
The people followed.
"First, the well needs a proper wall."
He pointed toward the excavation.
"Second, we need to protect the underground channel."
He pointed toward the old spring.
"Third, we need evidence."
Awan looked at him.
"Evidence of what?"
"That somebody deliberately destroyed your water."
Nokan nodded.
"We already know."
"You know."
Caleb looked around.
"But if Rourke says you dried up because of drought, who will believe you?"
Awan was silent.
"The judge," Caleb continued, "won't be standing here when Rourke arrives."
"What judge?"
"The one in Dry Creek."
Nokan laughed.
"You think the judge will care?"
"If we bring proof."
Caleb walked back toward the blocked channel.
He pulled a small piece of metal from his pocket.
The horseshoe.
"Rourke left his name behind."
Awan studied it.
"Will that be enough?"
"No."
"Then what?"
Caleb looked at the valley.
"We need the whole story."
The first thing they did was dig.
Not the well.
The old spring.
Caleb wanted to expose the damaged channel.
Six men worked with picks.
Another group removed the loose stones.
The deeper they went, the clearer the damage became.
At nearly four feet, they uncovered a blast fracture.
The sandstone had been cracked from inside.
Caleb touched the blackened edge.
"Powder."
Nokan nodded.
"Gunpowder?"
"Something stronger."
Caleb stood.
"Mining explosive."
Awan's eyes narrowed.
"Rourke mines?"
"Yes."
"Then we have proof."
"Part of it."
Caleb looked toward the ridge.
"Now we need witnesses."
Awan called the women.
Twenty-two of them gathered.
Caleb asked each one where she had been when the old spring began drying.
One remembered hearing explosions.
Another had seen wagons.
Another had seen men carrying tools.
Another had found unfamiliar horses near the northern ridge.
Some remembered dates.
Some remembered weather.
Some remembered voices.
Caleb wrote everything down.
Mara watched him.
"You write all of this?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because memories change."
She frowned.
Caleb explained.
"People remember the same event differently."
He pointed toward the women.
"That's why twenty people can see one thing and tell twenty different stories."
"But you believe them?"
"I don't need every story to be identical."
Caleb looked at the notes.
"I need them to fit together."
And they did.
The pieces formed a pattern.
The water had weakened.
Surveyors had arrived.
The old spring had stopped.