“The company will manage it efficiently.”
“Meaning people pay you to drink.”
“Meaning the valley survives.”
Mateo stepped forward. “The valley survived before you arrived.”
Rook turned to the crowd. “You see? This is exactly the problem. Outsiders want to dictate how our land is used.”
“They are not outsiders to the water,” Elias said. “Their families helped build the old channel.”
A voice from the edge of the crowd called, “My grandfather worked on it.”
Another man said, “Mine too.”
Rook lifted both hands, restoring the practiced calm. “We will settle this in court. Until then, I ask everyone to remain peaceful.”
He entered the courthouse with Recorder Bell and two lawyers. The crowd broke into uneasy groups. Elias had expected threats, but not the speed with which Rook had tried to turn the argument into a question of who belonged in the basin.
A young telegraph operator hurried toward them. “Mr. Mercer? A message came from the eastern station. It says Nathan Shaw was seen near the railway yard, under guard.”
“Alive?” Raina asked.
“Alive when they took him.”
Mateo’s face darkened. “Then the company has him.”
Elias looked toward the courthouse doors. “If we rush the yard, Rook will call it an attack. We need the sheriff.”
The sheriff arrived at last, a broad man named Pike—not the company agent, but Sheriff Jonah Pike, his older cousin. He listened with his arms folded and his hat tilted back. When Elias showed him the brass cylinder, the sheriff’s eyes flicked toward the courthouse.
“I can’t arrest Rook on the strength of a claim,” he said.
“We’re not asking you to arrest him,” Elias replied. “We’re asking you to stop his men from holding a witness.”
“That is a different matter.”
“Then act on it.”
Sheriff Pike looked at the gathering crowd. He knew the basin’s families, and he knew that if he did nothing, the town might fracture into armed camps before nightfall. At last he nodded.
“I’ll go to the yard with two deputies. You will not bring the riders into town.”
Mateo considered this. “I will keep them outside the main street. But if the witness is harmed, I will not promise what comes next.”
The sheriff accepted the warning because he understood it was not a threat made for effect. He mounted his horse, and the small party rode toward the railway yard.
Elias followed on foot with Raina beside him. The ledger pressed against his ribs. In the courthouse behind them, Silas Rook was already preparing his version of the truth. The next hours would determine whether Mercy Crossing remained a town with a court—or became a town ruled by whichever man could afford the most guns.
The railway yard smelled of coal smoke, creosote, and hot iron. Freight cars stood in long rows beneath the afternoon sun, their sides painted with company marks and faded shipping numbers. A locomotive hissed near the water tower, while workers moved crates along the platform without looking toward the sheriff’s party. They had learned that curiosity could cost a man his job.
Sheriff Jonah Pike led the way between two lines of boxcars. Elias walked behind him with Raina and Mateo, though Mateo kept his distance as promised. Two deputies followed, hands near their belts. At the far end of the yard, a company guard stood beside a locked freight car.
“Open it,” the sheriff ordered.
The guard shook his head. “Private property.”
“You are holding a witness under a county investigation.”
“I have no knowledge of any witness.”
The sheriff stepped close enough that the guard could see his badge. “You can open the door, or you can explain to a judge why you refused.”
The guard looked toward the station office. No one came to help him. After a moment, he produced a key and opened the car.
Nathan Shaw lay on a bed of burlap sacks, wrists tied, his gray hair matted with sweat. He was thin and stooped, but his eyes were clear. A bruise darkened one cheek. When he saw Elias, he tried to sit up and failed.
“Easy,” Raina said, kneeling beside him. “We’re getting you out.”
Nathan stared at the faces around him. “Did you find the papers?”
Elias nodded. “The ledger. The original agreement. Your letters.”
“Then he’ll burn the town to keep them from the judge.”
“Who?” the sheriff asked.
Nathan gave a bitter smile. “You know who.”
Sheriff Pike cut the ropes. “You are under my protection until a hearing can be held.”
“Your protection has a short history in this matter,” Nathan said.
The sheriff absorbed the insult without answering. He helped Nathan stand and guided him toward the door. A company foreman appeared at the end of the row, followed by three armed men.
“This is unlawful interference,” the foreman called.
“Then file a complaint,” the sheriff replied. “The witness is coming with me.”
One of the guards reached for his rifle. Mateo moved between him and Nathan so quickly that Elias barely saw the step. Mateo did not draw a weapon. He simply looked at the guard, and the man’s hand stopped.
The foreman turned to Elias. “You have no idea what you’re doing. That ledger will be ruled stolen property. Rook owns the land, the water rights, and half the men who will hear your case.”
“Then he should have no trouble proving his claim honestly.”
The foreman spat into the dust. “You’ll regret this.”
“Put it in writing.”
They took Nathan to Ada Bell’s clinic, where she checked his ribs and gave him broth. He had been held for two nights and beaten whenever he asked for a lawyer. The injuries were painful but not life-threatening. Ada said he needed rest before he could give a formal statement.
Raina sat beside the bed. “Why did you keep the duplicate all these years?”