Chapter 2 - Five Words in a Dusty Alley
The barn stood two miles east of Red Mesa beneath a ridge of sunburned rock.
Its roof sagged.
One door hung crookedly.
The corral beside it had collapsed years ago.
To Elias, it looked perfect.
No owner.
No neighbors.
No reason for anyone to visit.
At least, that was what he believed.
Mara entered cautiously.
Dust floated through beams of sunlight.
Elias stayed near the doorway.
“You can rest in the loft.”
She studied him.
“You really aren't coming closer?”
“You told me not to.”
Most men, Mara had learned, treated boundaries like negotiations.
Elias treated hers like walls.
That unsettled her almost as much as Harlan's threats.
She sat on an overturned crate.
Elias took his canteen from the saddle.
He set it several feet away rather than handing it directly to her.
Mara drank.
Her hands still shook.
Elias pretended not to see.
After a while he asked, “Harlan always like that?”
Mara gave him a tired look.
“You promised no questions.”
“I said not unless you wanted to answer.”
“I don't.”
“All right.”
Silence.
Wind moved through gaps in the boards.
Samson grazed outside.
Ten minutes passed.
Then Mara spoke.
“My husband died eighteen months ago.”
Elias looked at her but didn't interrupt.
“His name was Thomas.”
She stared at the floor.
“He was Apache. He worked horses better than anyone around Red Mesa. Ranchers hired him when they had animals nobody else could handle.”
Her mouth almost formed a smile.
“He could calm a frightened horse just by standing beside it.”
“What happened?”
“Fever.”
Elias's face softened.
“I'm sorry.”
“After he died, I kept our place.”
“Harlan wanted it?”
Mara looked sharply at him.
“You understand quickly.”
“Land makes bad men creative.”
“Harlan works for Silas Creed.”
That name meant nothing to Elias.
Apparently his expression showed it.
Mara gave a bitter laugh.
“You really aren't from here.”
“No.”
“Creed owns the largest cattle operation in the county. He owns half the water rights. He owns mortgages on three businesses in town.”
“Sheriff?”
Mara's silence answered.
Elias leaned against a post.
“And Harlan?”
“His foreman.”
“Why does Creed want your land?”
“There is a spring.”
Elias understood.
Water.
In country like this, water could be worth more than gold.
“Thomas's family used it for decades,” Mara continued. “Our deed includes access. Creed has been buying every parcel along the eastern grazing route.”
“And you wouldn't sell.”
“No.”
“So Harlan started convincing you.”
Mara looked away.
Elias saw the edge of a bruise above her collar.
His jaw tightened.
“How long?”
She did not answer.
“Mara.”
“Months.”
Elias stared through the barn door.
A familiar anger rose inside him.
He pushed it down.
“What happened last night?”
“Nothing.”
“Mara.”
She stood.
“I said nothing.”
“All right.”
“You don't get to demand the truth because you helped me once.”
“You're right.”
His immediate agreement stopped her.
Elias picked up his saddlebag.
“I'll ride back and find food.”
“No.”
“You need something besides water.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if you go back, they'll know.”
Elias turned.
“Know what?”
“Where I am.”
He looked toward the ridge.
Too late, a thought came to him.
He stepped outside.
The land was empty.
Or appeared empty.
He crouched near the road.
Tracks.
One horse.
Recent.
Following theirs.
Elias's stomach tightened.
“Mara.”
She appeared in the doorway.
“What?”
“We have to move.”
Her face changed.
“You saw something?”
“Tracks.”
“How close?”
“Close enough.”
Mara grabbed her basket.
Elias saddled Samson.
“You ride.”
“And you?”
“Walk.”
“No.”
“We don't have time to argue.”
“I can walk.”
“You're injured.”
“I said no.”
Elias looked at her.
Then nodded.
“Fine. We both walk.”
That seemed to surprise her.
They led Samson into a dry creek bed where the banks hid them from the road.
Elias moved quickly but kept his pace slow enough for Mara.
After half a mile she began limping.
He noticed.
Said nothing.
Another quarter mile.
She stumbled.
Elias caught her elbow instinctively.
Mara jerked away.
He released her immediately.
“Sorry.”
She stared at him.
“You apologized.”
“Yes.”
“For helping.”
“For touching you when you didn't want me to.”
Something in her expression changed.
Very slightly.
“Thomas used to apologize like that.”
Elias didn't know what to say.
So he said nothing.
They continued.
Behind them, three riders reached the abandoned barn.
Harlan dismounted first.
The scout who had followed Elias pointed toward the creek bed.
“They left.”
Harlan entered the barn.
Empty.
He kicked the crate Mara had been sitting on.
“Find them.”
One of the men hesitated.
“Creed said scare her. He didn't say—”
Harlan grabbed the man's shirt.
“Mr. Creed wants that deed signed.”
“He said no killing.”
“Who said anything about killing?”
Harlan smiled.
“We're just going to remind her how dangerous the desert can be.”
Meanwhile Elias and Mara reached a stand of cottonwoods along a narrow wash.
There was water there.
Barely.
A shallow stream, perhaps ankle deep.
Elias let Samson drink.
Mara sat beneath a tree.
“You should leave me,” she said.
“No.”
“Harlan isn't after you.”
“He is now.”
“Because of me.”
“Because of himself.”
She shook her head.
“You don't understand people like him.”
Elias sat across from her.
“I understand bullies.”
“No. Harlan isn't the problem.”
“Then Creed is.”
Her eyes lifted.
“You don't understand Creed either.”
“Then tell me.”
Mara hesitated.
“People disappear.”
Elias stopped moving.
“What?”
“Men who refuse to sell. Workers who complain. A rancher named Caleb Morris challenged Creed's water claim last year.”
“What happened?”
“He left town.”
“You believe that?”
“His horse came back.”
Elias's eyes hardened.
“Sheriff investigate?”
“Sheriff Boone said Caleb probably stole another horse.”
“And people accepted that?”
“People accept whatever keeps their families safe.”
Elias looked toward Red Mesa, hidden beyond the ridge.
Fear could build a town as effectively as lumber.
One person stayed silent.
Then another.
Soon silence became custom.
“You said someone might see,” Elias said.
Mara looked at him.
“In the alley.”
Her expression tightened.
“You wanted witnesses.”
“I wanted Harlan to know there were witnesses.”
“Difference?”
“A witness can still lie.”
Elias considered that.
“Why risk it?”
“Because for once I wanted him to know I wasn't invisible.”
Those words stayed between them.
Elias thought about the Mercer family.
About arriving too late to save everyone.
About spending six years believing distance could absolve him from ever having to choose again.
Mara stood.
“We should keep moving.”
“Where?”
“My home.”
“I thought Harlan knows where you live.”
“He does.”
“Then why?”
“Because there's something there I need.”
“What?”
Mara's eyes met his.
“Proof.”
Before Elias could ask, Samson raised his head.
His ears turned toward the wash.
Elias heard it a second later.
Hooves.
Multiple horses.
Coming fast.
He pulled Mara behind the cottonwoods.
Three riders appeared on the ridge.
Harlan was in front.
Mara whispered, “They found us.”
Elias looked at the open country ahead.
No cover.
No safe road.
Only a narrow canyon splitting the red cliffs to the south.
He handed Mara Samson's reins.
“Get on.”
“What are you doing?”
“Buying time.”
Her face went pale.
“No.”
“Mara.”
“No.”
“You know that canyon?”
“Yes.”
“Where does it go?”
“To the old mission road.”
“Good.”
He helped her toward Samson.
She stopped.
“Elias.”
It was the first time she had used his name.
He looked at her.
“You said you wouldn't fight him.”
“I said I wasn't planning to.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“No.”
The hoofbeats grew louder.
Mara climbed into the saddle.
Elias slapped Samson lightly on the flank.
The horse started toward the canyon.
Mara pulled the reins.
“What about you?”
“I'll catch up.”
“You can't outrun horses.”
“No.”
“Then how?”
Elias looked toward the riders.
A strange calm settled over his face.
“I'm hoping Harlan hasn't figured that out yet.”
May you like
Then he stepped into the middle of the wash alone.
And waited.
