Chapter 3 - The Man Who Wanted a War
The leather cord belonged to Greyhawk.
The hoofprints did not.
That contradiction kept Asa awake.
Two days later he rode into Red Bluff alone.
Sahale wanted to accompany him.
Asa refused.
She glared.
“You said I belong to myself.”
“You do.”
“Then you cannot order me.”
“That’s true.”
She reached for her shawl.
Asa sighed.
“Could you freely decide to remain here because someone needs to keep the cabin from burning down?”
Sahale stared at him.
Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
It was the first time Asa had seen her smile.
It changed her entire face.
“Coward,” she said.
“Probably.”
At Red Bluff, Asa learned the name of the man who had laughed loudest during Sahale’s humiliation.
Caleb Voss.
Voss owned freight wagons, supplied several settlements, and had been trying for years to expand his grazing claims.
Asa’s ranch sat inconveniently near one of the few dependable springs in the region.
So did land used seasonally by Apache families.
Conflict would benefit Voss.
Fear drove people away.
Empty land could be claimed.
The pieces began fitting together.
That evening Asa returned home.
Sahale was waiting.
“What happened?”
“Someone wants your father blamed.”
“Who?”
“Caleb Voss.”
She knew the name.
Her expression darkened.
“My father hates him.”
“Apparently Voss is counting on that.”
Asa told her everything.
Sahale listened.
Then she said, “My father would burn your barn if he wanted.”
Asa blinked.
“He would not leave a false sign. He would stand outside and tell you he did it.”
“That is strangely reassuring.”
“It should not be.”
“No.”
They almost smiled again.
But the danger was real.
Over the next week, rumors spread through Red Bluff.
Apache raiders had burned a ranch.
Settlers were arming themselves.
Voss encouraged every story.
Greyhawk, hearing that his people were being blamed, grew furious.
The frontier tightened like a rope.
Sahale realized what was happening before Asa did.
“If fighting starts, Voss wins.”
“And everyone else loses.”
“Yes.”
They needed proof.
The opportunity came unexpectedly.
A teenage boy named Eli Mercer arrived at Asa’s ranch near dusk.
He had worked occasionally for Voss.
He was terrified.
“I saw them,” Eli said.
“Who?”
“Voss’s men. Night of the fire.”
Asa’s eyes narrowed.
Eli swallowed.
“They took something from an Apache saddle before they rode out.”
The leather cord.
Proof.
But Eli had more.
Voss was planning another attack.
Bigger this time.
A supply wagon would be burned outside Red Bluff.
A settler would be killed.
Evidence would point toward Greyhawk.
“And then?” Sahale asked.
Eli looked sick.
“Voss says the territory will finish the rest.”
Silence filled the cabin.
Asa understood.
A single murder could ignite retaliation.
Retaliation would create more killing.
Soon nobody would remember who started it.
“We warn Greyhawk,” Sahale said.
Asa looked at her.
“He may not believe us.”
“He will believe me.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
She reached for her walking stick.
“But I am going anyway.”
This time Asa did not argue.
The following morning, they rode together.
Sahale sat beside him in the wagon.
When pain crossed her face, Asa slowed.
She noticed.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Slow down.”
“The road is bad.”
“The road was bad before I hurt.”
Asa kept his eyes ahead.
Sahale studied him.
“You never want anyone to know when you are kind.”
“I’m not kind.”
“No?”
“No.”
“What are you?”
He considered it.
“Tired.”
Sahale laughed.
The sound startled birds from a nearby bush.
Asa smiled before he could stop himself.
For one brief moment, the coming danger disappeared.
Then riders emerged ahead.
Greyhawk’s men.
They surrounded the wagon.
Greyhawk appeared behind them.
His face hardened when he saw Sahale.
“You returned.”
“Not to stay.”
His expression changed.
Sahale climbed down carefully.
“I came because someone is trying to make you kill people who did not attack you.”
Greyhawk listened.
At first with suspicion.
Then anger.
Then silence.
When Sahale finished, Greyhawk looked at Asa.
“You expect me to trust him?”
“No,” Sahale said. “I expect you to trust me.”
Greyhawk stared at his daughter.
Perhaps for the first time, he saw not the injured child he considered a burden but a woman standing between two groups of frightened people.
He agreed to wait.
They would catch Voss’s men during the planned attack.
But that night, before Asa and Sahale could return home, a rider arrived with terrible news.
Eli Mercer had disappeared.
And nailed to Asa’s cabin door was a message.
May you like
Three words.
BRING HER BACK.
