Chief Samuel Black rose when Jack approached. He was in his late fifties, tall and spare, with silver threaded through his black hair. His clothes were plain, but his stillness held the attention of everyone nearby. A dark blanket rested over one shoulder, and a carved wooden staff leaned against his chair.
“You are the brother of Daniel Mercer,” the chief said.
“Yes, sir. I’m looking for him.”
“Then you have come to a place where his name is remembered.” The chief gestured toward a bench.
“Sit. You may hear things you dislike.”
Jack sat. Naya remained standing near the entrance, watching the valley. Chief Samuel explained that Daniel had arrived six weeks earlier with maps copied from Meridian’s survey office. The young man had discovered that the company planned to divert the valley’s spring into a private reservoir, then claim the community had no legal right to the water. Without the spring, crops would fail, livestock would die, and families would be forced to leave. The company would buy their land for almost nothing and sell it later to the railroad.
“Daniel said he had found the original survey,” the chief continued.
“A record showing that the spring and its banks were protected by an agreement made before Meridian was formed. He left to retrieve the document from a clerk who promised to help. He never returned.”
Jack’s jaw tightened.
“Why didn’t you send someone after him?”
“We did. One rider came back with a broken arm. The other did not come back at all.” The chief’s gaze did not waver.
“Your brother believed that a paper could stop a bullet. He was not entirely wrong, but he learned the order in which such things happen.”
Jack looked down at his hands.
“If he’s alive, I’ll find him.”
“Perhaps.” The chief glanced toward the valley entrance.
“But Meridian will return with more men. They have already persuaded the territorial judge to issue a notice claiming this land is unlawfully occupied. I need time to gather witnesses and get the original agreement to a federal office beyond Rourke’s reach.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
The chief took a breath.
“My daughter, Isabel, is of age to choose a husband. She has refused every man I suggested, not because she is stubborn, but because she sees how marriage can be used to trade a woman’s future. Yet the company is spreading rumors that my family has no legitimate ties to this valley. If an outsider with a reputation for honesty joined our household, it would complicate their story. You have no company ties. Your brother’s disappearance gives you a reason to oppose them. A marriage alliance could make it harder for them to isolate us.”
Jack stared at him.
“You want me to marry your daughter?”
“I want you to consider it. But I will not pretend the choice is simple. If you refuse, you may leave the valley after giving your word not to reveal its defenses. If you accept, you will be expected to stand with this community while the danger lasts.”
“That sounds less like marriage than a military contract.”
“It would be both a promise and a public declaration.” The chief’s expression grew severe.
“I will not force my daughter into a union she does not want. Nor will I force you. But there is a second part to this matter, and I must tell you plainly.”
A shout rose from the gate. One of the watchers had seen the riders coming down the slope. Chief Samuel looked toward Naya, who had already moved to the doorway. She returned a moment later, her face controlled but her hands tense.
“Rourke’s men say they carry a warrant,” she reported.
“They demand that the chief surrender the man who stole company documents.”
“Daniel did not steal anything,” Jack said.
“Truth is not always the first thing written on a warrant,” Naya replied.
Chief Samuel stood and lifted his staff.
“Then we will speak where all can hear us.” He looked directly at Jack.
“If you accept my offer, it must be your decision, not a bargain made under the barrel of a gun. I will not ask again after today.”
They walked together toward the central clearing. The community gathered in a broad half-circle. The three riders entered, led by a thick-necked deputy whose badge shone brighter than his conscience. Rourke was not with them, but his influence seemed to ride in their saddles.
The deputy unfolded a paper.
“By order of Judge Harlan Voss, this settlement must surrender Daniel Mercer and all company property in its possession.”
“He is not here,” Chief Samuel answered.