Chapter 3 - Six Cowboys and One Secret
Silas Rourke knew how to use silence.
Elias recognized that immediately.
Some men threatened with weapons.
Rourke threatened by making other people imagine what his weapons could do.
He stood in the moonlit camp with his hat in one hand and the other resting casually near his revolver.
“Deputy Ward,” he repeated.
“Not anymore.”
“So I heard.”
Jeb glanced between them.
“You two finished?”
Rourke smiled.
“Just remembering history.”
“History can wait until morning.”
“I'd prefer to search the cabin first.”
Elias stepped in front of him.
“No.”
The smile disappeared.
Only for a second.
Then it returned.
“You hiding something?”
“My bedroll.”
“Then you won't mind.”
“I do.”
Behind Elias, five cowboys shifted uneasily.
They had not agreed to defend Aayoka.
But Rourke had made a mistake.
He had entered another man's camp and begun issuing orders.
Frontier men could tolerate many things.
That was rarely one of them.
Jeb spat into the dirt.
“You heard Ward.”
Rourke looked at him.
Then at the others.
Three against six was poor arithmetic.
Rourke placed his hat back on.
“No offense intended.”
He climbed into the saddle.
“But that Apache woman murdered one of my men. If you see her, you'd be wise not to interfere.”
Elias said, “What was his name?”
Rourke stopped.
“What?”
“The man she killed.”
A fraction of hesitation.
“Billy Crane.”
“How?”
“Knife.”
“Where?”
Rourke's eyes hardened.
“You conducting an investigation?”
“No. Curious.”
Rourke leaned forward in his saddle.
“Curiosity didn't work out well for you in Prescott.”
Then he rode away.
His men followed.
Nobody spoke until the hoofbeats disappeared.
Jeb turned toward Elias.
“Boy-killer?”
Elias stared after Rourke.
“Not tonight.”
“Seems tonight's exactly when I'd like an explanation.”
The cabin door opened.
Aayoka stepped out.
She was pale but steady.
“Lie.”
Elias turned.
“Rourke?”
She nodded.
“Billy Crane alive.”
Every cowboy became silent.
“You're sure?” Jeb asked.
Aayoka pointed toward the tracks.
“Ride with Rourke.”
Elias remembered the two men.
One had kept his hat low.
“Which one?”
Aayoka pointed toward the trail.
“Left.”
Jeb swore softly.
If Aayoka was telling the truth, Rourke had invented a murder accusation while the supposed dead man sat twenty feet away.
That changed everything.
Elias looked toward his companions.
“You still think she's the dangerous one?”
Nobody answered.
At dawn, the camp divided.
Two men continued with the cattle.
Three agreed to accompany Jeb as far as Red Mesa.
Elias would travel with Aayoka.
Jeb surprised everyone by joining them.
“You don't have to,” Elias said.
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Jeb tightened his saddle.
“Because Rourke lied to my face.”
It wasn't a noble reason.
But Elias had learned that decent actions did not always begin with noble motives.
Aayoka mounted behind Elias because there were no spare horses.
At first she refused to touch him.
When the horse moved, she nearly fell.
Elias glanced back.
“You can hold the saddle.”
She did.
They rode north.
By midday, they found the first sign.
A strip of red cloth caught on a thorn.
Aayoka jumped down before Elias could stop her.
“Keme.”
“How do you know?”
She touched the cloth.
“My blanket. I give him.”
She looked east.
Footprints crossed the sand.
Small moccasin prints.
Beside them were boot tracks.
Aayoka began following immediately.
Elias caught her arm gently.
She spun toward him.
“Listen.”
He pointed.
The tracks were too obvious.
A fourteen-year-old raised in the desert would not leave such an easy trail unless he wanted someone to follow.
Or unless someone forced him.
Elias crouched.
One boot print was unusually deep.
“He's being marched.”
Aayoka's face changed.
“Keme.”
“We'll find him.”
She pulled free.
“You say.”
“Yes.”
“You know?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
Elias stood.
“I won't promise what I can't know.”
Aayoka stared at him.
Then nodded.
It was the first piece of trust built not from kindness, but honesty.
They followed the trail into rocky country.
Near sunset, Jeb discovered blood on a stone.
Aayoka's breath caught.
Elias examined it.
“Horse blood.”
She exhaled.
Then a rifle shot cracked across the canyon.
Everyone dropped.
A second bullet struck rock above Elias.
“Cover!”
They scattered.
Elias saw movement along the ridge.
Rourke's men.
The ambush lasted less than a minute.
Then the shooters disappeared.
They had not intended to kill everyone.
They had intended to stop the pursuit.
Or frighten them.
Jeb found something afterward.
A leather pouch.
Inside was a brass deputy's badge.
Elias took it.
His old badge.
The one he had thrown into a desk drawer before leaving Prescott years ago.
On the back someone had scratched three words:
SAMUEL PIKE REMEMBERS.
Elias stared at it.
“That yours?” Jeb asked.
“Yes.”
“How'd Rourke get it?”
“I don't know.”
Aayoka watched Elias's face.
For the first time, she saw fear there.
Not fear of dying.
Fear of the past.
They camped without a fire.
Hours later, Aayoka woke to find Elias sitting alone with the badge.
She approached quietly.
“You run too,” she said.
Elias looked up.
“Yes.”
“From Rourke?”
“No.”
“From dead boy?”
Elias closed his hand around the badge.
“Yes.”
Aayoka sat several feet away.
“My mother say dead follow if living refuse speak name.”
Elias looked at her.
“What was your mother's name?”
“Nalin.”
“And your father?”
“Takoda.”
He nodded.
Then Aayoka pointed at the badge.
“Boy name Samuel.”
Elias swallowed.
“Samuel Pike.”
She repeated it carefully.
“Samuel Pike.”
For years Elias had avoided speaking the name.
Now, under an Arizona sky crowded with stars, a woman who had every reason to distrust him had spoken it without accusation.
Something inside him shifted.
Then a sound came from the darkness.
Three short whistles.
Aayoka jumped up.
“Keme!”
She answered with two sharp whistles.
Silence.
Then again.
Three.
Two.
Three.
Aayoka ran.
Elias followed.
They found a boy crawling from between rocks.
Thin.
Bleeding from one arm.
Exhausted.
“Keme!”
Aayoka dropped beside him.
Brother and sister clung to each other.
Elias turned away, giving them privacy.
Then Keme said something rapidly.
Aayoka's relief vanished.
She looked at Elias.
“Tala alive.”
“Where?”
Aayoka listened as Keme spoke.
Then she translated.
“Rourke has her.”
Elias's jaw tightened.
“Why?”
Keme answered before Aayoka could.
One English sentence.
“Because she saw him kill the settlers.”
Jeb stared.
“What settlers?”
Keme pointed toward Prescott.
And suddenly Elias understood the shape of Rourke's plan.
A massacre blamed on Apache people.
A witness being hunted.
And a former deputy whose disgraced name could be used to destroy any accusation he made.
This had never been only about Aayoka.
Rourke was hiding something big enough to kill for.
May you like
And Tala was the only living witness.
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