“He kept records for the mission and translated letters for people who did not trust the company’s clerks. He was not a brave man, but he hated being cheated.”
“That can be a kind of courage.”
Mateo gave him a sideways look.
“You talk as if you have known many cowards.”
“I’ve known men who were afraid and did the right thing anyway. I’ve known men who were not afraid of anything except losing money.”
They searched the office first. The desk had been overturned, its drawers torn out. Someone had dragged a heavy cabinet across the floor, leaving a dark groove in the dust. Jack knelt and examined the marks. The cabinet had been moved after the fire, not before; beneath it lay a rectangle of clean floor protected from soot. A narrow iron ring was fixed into the boards. He pulled, but the hatch did not move.
Mateo found a broken tool near the wall and worked the ring loose. Beneath the floor was a shallow storage space containing a tin box, two cracked ledgers, and a bundle wrapped in oilcloth. Jack lifted the bundle carefully. Inside were copies of water-rights agreements, a map marked with red pencil, and a letter signed by Daniel.
The letter was brief. Daniel wrote that he had found evidence the company’s official map had been altered. The original survey was not at the mission; it had been entrusted to a woman named Ruth Bell for safekeeping after Finch became frightened. Daniel planned to meet a railroad engineer at a place called Widow’s Crossing. If the meeting went well, he would bring the engineer back to the valley as a witness. The last line was written more heavily than the rest: If I do not return, do not trust the man who carries the compass rose.
Jack read the sentence twice. Rourke wore a compass rose at his collar. It was no longer a vague suspicion. Daniel had known enough to fear him.
A sound came from the chapel. Mateo raised one hand, signaling silence. Jack slipped the letter into his coat and moved toward the doorway. A man in a dust-covered suit stood among the burnt pews, holding a small revolver. His hair was thinning, his cheeks hollow, and his right sleeve had been patched with thread of a different color. He looked less like a villain than a man who had not slept in days.
“Don’t shoot,” the stranger said.
“I came because I saw your horse.”
“Who are you?”
“Elias Finch.” He lowered the revolver, though he did not put it away.
“And if you have Daniel’s letter, you should burn it before you ride back.”
Jack’s heart struck hard against his ribs.
“Where is my brother?”
Finch closed his eyes briefly.
“I don’t know. The last I heard, he was being held at a freight camp west of here. Rourke wanted him to sign a statement saying the survey was forged. Daniel refused.”
“Why didn’t you go to the sheriff?”
“Because I watched Rourke pay the sheriff to lose a man’s testimony.” Finch’s voice cracked.
“I am not proud of what I did. I gave Daniel the archive key, then I ran when the mission burned. I thought if I disappeared, the company would forget about me. Instead, they started killing people who had helped him.”
Mateo stepped forward.
“You left our people to face the warrant alone.”
“I know.” Finch did not defend himself.
“I have spent every day since then knowing it.”
Jack held up the map.
“Where is Widow’s Crossing?”
“An old rail spur about a day’s ride west. Daniel intended to meet a man named Owen Price, an engineer who discovered the company planned to dam the spring above the valley. Price has the original field notes. If he’s alive, he can prove the line on the map was moved.”
“Then we go there.”
Finch shook his head.
“You cannot ride straight in. Rourke has men at the freight camp and on the main road. He will expect you to follow the letter.”
“Then we won’t follow it straight.”
They heard hoofbeats outside. Mateo extinguished the lantern even though it was not yet dark. Finch slipped behind a half-burned partition, while Jack and Mateo moved into the sacristy. Through a crack in the wall, Jack saw two riders dismount. One wore the silver-banded rifle Tomás had described. The other carried a canvas bag that clinked as he walked.
“Search the office,” the first rider ordered.
“Rourke wants the papers before the Mercer boy finds them.”
The men began kicking through debris. Jack felt the rifle against his shoulder, but he did not raise it. If they fired inside the ruin, the walls might collapse, and they would lose Finch along with their chance to find Daniel. Mateo pointed toward a narrow rear passage that opened onto the dry wash. They moved without speaking, taking Finch with them when the riders entered the chapel.
Outside, the three men crawled beneath a bank of thorn brush until the searchers passed. Finch’s breathing came in sharp bursts. When they reached their horses, he looked at Jack with exhausted shame.
“I can show you a route to Widow’s Crossing,” he said.
“But I will not ask you to forgive me.”
“I didn’t come for your forgiveness,” Jack replied.
“I came for the truth. If you can help us find Daniel and stop the company, that is what you do.”
The route took them through a narrow ravine where the rock held the day’s heat. At sunset, Finch pointed to a line of black telegraph poles on the far ridge. Beyond them lay the abandoned rail spur. Jack kept Daniel’s letter inside his coat, feeling its edges with each movement. His brother was alive, perhaps, but imprisoned by men who knew exactly how much a person could be made to suffer before a signature appeared on paper. Jack had no intention of letting them decide that limit.