Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2 — THE CHIEF CAME FOR HIS DAUGHTER, BUT HE WASN’T LOOKING AT THE SOLDIERS
Nobody fired.
That frightened Carcer more than gunfire would have.
Dozens of riders remained perfectly still along the ridge.
The soldiers waited below.
Wind moved through the canyon.
Dust curled around their boots.
Carcer could hear leather saddles creaking above them.
Then Nahtan raised one hand.
The riders began descending.
Slowly.
Not charging.
Not shouting.
Just coming closer.
The officer beside Carcer swallowed.
“Hold your positions.”
Nobody answered.
“Hold your positions!”
This time his voice cracked.
The Apache woman stepped around Carcer.
He caught her wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“To my father.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
For the first time, something almost resembling amusement touched her face.
“He brought forty riders.”
Carcer looked toward the ridge.
“Fair point.”
She pulled her wrist free.
Then stopped.
“You should leave.”
Carcer frowned.
“Why?”
Her expression became serious again.
“Because once my father learns what happened, he may not care which side you were standing on.”
Carcer stared at her.
“That would’ve been useful information about ten minutes ago.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then hoofbeats filled the canyon.
Nahtan rode into the outpost.
His warriors spread behind him.
The soldiers stepped backward.
Carcer remained where he was.
Nahtan dismounted.
Up close, the scar looked even deeper.
But Carcer noticed something else.
The chief barely looked at the soldiers.
His attention went directly to his daughter.
She walked toward him.
Nahtan stopped several feet away.
He looked at the bruising around her wrists.
Then at the tear in her red shawl.
Then at the dust and dried blood near her shoulder.
His expression did not change.
That somehow made him more intimidating.
He spoke quietly to her.
Carcer could not understand the words.
She answered.
Then she pointed toward him.
Every Apache warrior looked at Carcer.
He suddenly became very aware that he was still holding a rifle.
Slowly, Carcer lowered it.
Nahtan approached.
The officer immediately stepped between them.
“That woman is under military authority.”
Nahtan stopped.
The officer continued.
“She is wanted for questioning.”
Nahtan looked at him.
“She has a name.”
The officer’s mouth tightened.
“She crossed restricted territory.”
Nahtan said nothing.
“She was found carrying stolen property.”
Now the woman stepped forward.
“That is a lie.”
The officer looked at her.
“You were carrying military documents.”
Carcer turned toward her.
Documents?
She had never mentioned documents.
Nahtan’s gaze shifted to his daughter.
She reached beneath her shawl.
For one second every soldier raised his weapon.
Carcer raised his rifle too.
“Easy!”
She slowly removed a folded piece of paper.
The officer’s face went pale.
Carcer saw it.
Just for an instant.
But it was enough.
The officer wasn’t angry that she had the paper.
He was afraid.
She handed it to her father.
Nahtan unfolded it.
His eyes moved across the page.
Then he looked at the officer.
“What is this?”
The officer said nothing.
Carcer stepped closer.
“Let me see.”
Nahtan looked at him for a long moment.
Then handed him the paper.
It was a list.
Dates.
Locations.
Numbers.
At first Carcer didn’t understand.
Then he recognized one of the ranch names.
Hollister Ranch.
Three horses stolen.
Another name.
McCrae Station.
Seven horses.
Then another.
An Apache camp near the northern ridge.
Twelve horses.
The thefts had been happening on both sides.
Settlers blamed the Apache.
The Apache blamed settlers.
Each incident pushed the territory closer to violence.
Carcer looked at the woman.
“Where did you get this?”
“From the men who captured me.”
The officer snapped:
“She stole it!”
She turned toward him.
“Because you were going to destroy it.”
Silence.
Carcer looked back at the paper.
There was another column.
Initials.
Payments.
Delivery points.
And one name appeared repeatedly.
S. Briggs.
Carcer looked slowly toward the officer.
“Briggs.”
Lieutenant Samuel Briggs said nothing.
Nahtan’s daughter continued.
“They have been stealing horses from ranchers and from our camps.”
Carcer’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“To make each side blame the other.”
Nahtan finished the thought.
“And when enough settlers are afraid…”
Carcer understood.
“They demand the army remove the Apache.”
Nobody spoke.
It was simple.
Ugly.
Effective.
Create enough theft.
Enough fear.
Enough retaliation.
Eventually somebody fired first.
Then nobody remembered how the conflict had begun.
Carcer looked at Briggs.
“You were trying to start a war.”
Briggs suddenly laughed.
But it was not the laugh of a confident man.
It was the laugh of someone who realized the room had run out of exits.
“You think one piece of paper proves anything?”
Nahtan stared at him.
“No.”
Briggs smiled.
Then Nahtan continued.
“That is why we brought the man who wrote it.”
The smile vanished.
Carcer turned toward the ridge.
Two Apache riders were coming down.
A third horse walked between them.
There was a man on it.
Hands tied.
Hat missing.
Blood dried along his temple.
As he came closer, Carcer recognized him.
The same man who had held the pendant earlier.
The same man who had fired at Nahtan’s daughter.
Briggs took one step backward.
The prisoner looked at him.
“Lieutenant…”
Briggs immediately drew his revolver.
Everything happened at once.
Carcer lifted his rifle.
The soldiers shouted.
Apache warriors reached for weapons.
Briggs aimed directly at the prisoner.
But Nahtan’s daughter stepped between them.
“NO!”
Briggs froze.
Carcer stared at him.
And in that instant, he realized something.
Briggs wasn’t trying to shoot an enemy.
He was trying to silence his own man.
But before Carcer could speak, another sound came from the eastern canyon.
Hoofbeats.
A lot of them.
Nahtan looked toward the sound.
So did Briggs.
And for the first time since the chief arrived...
Briggs smiled.
Carcer’s stomach dropped.
The Apache riders had come from the west.
Whoever was approaching from the east was someone else.
Dust began rising beyond the rocks.
Then dozens of armed cattlemen appeared.
Carcer recognized several faces.
Men from nearby ranches.
Men he had drunk with.
Men he had trusted.
At their front rode the wealthiest cattleman in Red Canyon.
Silas Vane.
And tied across the back of Silas’s saddle...
was a leather satchel bearing the same symbol carved into the pendant around Nahtan’s daughter’s neck.
Carcer looked at the pendant.
Then at the satchel.
Then at Nahtan.
Something about the story they had just uncovered was wrong.
Very wrong.
Because if Silas Vane had that satchel...
then Nahtan’s daughter had not been captured because she discovered the conspiracy.
She had been carrying something the conspirators desperately needed back.
And whatever was inside that satchel was important enough to bring two armed forces to the same patch of desert.
Silas stopped his horse.
He looked directly at Carcer.
Then smiled.
“Ask the woman what she was really doing at your ranch.”
Carcer slowly turned toward her.
May you like
She said nothing.
And that silence frightened him more than the forty rifles surrounding them.
