Chapter 4: RED STONE CANYON
They departed before sunrise.
Eli.
Naiche.
Taza.
And four Apache men.
No soldiers.
No posse.
Seven people going against Whitlock’s hired gunmen.
But Eli possessed one advantage Whitlock did not know about.
He knew Red Stone Canyon.
Years earlier, before grief had pushed him away from the rest of humanity, Eli had driven cattle through the canyon twice every year.
He knew its narrow paths.
He knew the hidden shelf behind the western ridge.
And he knew the dry creek bed that passed directly beneath the Bar W holding pens.
They reached the canyon shortly before midnight.
Eli moved forward alone to scout.
The six children were being held inside an old line shack.
Two guards stood outside it.
Four more remained near the spring.
There was no reason to start shooting.
Not yet.
Eli slipped back to the others.
“Naiche, take the west side.”
She nodded.
“Taza, horses.”
Taza understood immediately.
Eli waited.
One minute.
Then two.
Suddenly horses thundered through the Bar W camp.
Taza had released them.
Men began shouting.
Three guards ran after the loose animals.
Naiche moved silently behind one of the remaining guards and struck him hard enough to drop him.
Eli dealt with the second.
Thirty seconds later, the shack door opened.
Six terrified children stared from inside.
One little girl recognized Naiche.
She ran directly into Naiche’s arms.
Eli turned his head away.
Some reunions belonged to the people who had earned them.
They escaped without firing a single shot.
Almost.
A rifle cracked behind them.
A bullet struck stone.
Another shot followed.
“Move!”
They ran down the dry creek bed.
Naiche stumbled.
Eli caught her.
Dark blood spread across her sleeve.
“You hit?”
“Rock.”
A stone fragment had cut her arm.
It was not a bullet.
They kept moving.
By sunrise, they had put fifteen miles between themselves and the canyon.
The six children were safe.
But everything had changed.
Whitlock would not rely on warnings anymore.
Two days later, a United States marshal rode onto Caldwell Ranch.
His name was Daniel Mercer.
Eli expected him to be another official bought with Whitlock’s money.
Instead, Mercer inspected the burned pasture, listened carefully while Taza explained what had happened, examined the altered survey map, and became very quiet.
“Where’d you get this?”
“County land office.”
“You steal it?”
“Borrowed aggressively.”
Mercer sighed.
“This alteration is obvious.”
“Then arrest Whitlock.”
“Can’t.”
Eli stared at him.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I need proof that he ordered it. I arrest him with only this, and his lawyers have him back outside before supper.”
“What about taking six children?”
“Witnesses?”
“Six.”
“Who’ll testify?”
Taza stepped forward.
“I will.”
Mercer studied him.
Then Naiche.
Then Eli.
“Whitlock has friends inside the territorial government.”
“Everybody keeps telling me how many friends that man has.”
Eli pointed toward the burned land.
“I’m beginning to wonder how many he’ll still have when people find out what those friendships cost.”
Mercer studied him.
“You have an idea?”
Eli did.
It was a dangerous one.
The next morning, Horace Bell disappeared.
The land clerk.
Gone.
His office had been cleared.
But beneath a loose floorboard, Mercer discovered something.
A ledger.
Payments made by Whitlock.
Dates.
Amounts.
Names.
One payment matched the exact date of the altered survey.
Another corresponded to money paid to six hired riders.
A third contained a reference to Red Stone.
It was enough to begin an investigation.
It was not enough to stop what was already coming.
Because Whitlock knew.
His men appeared along the horizon the following afternoon.
Fourteen riders.
Armed.
Silas rode at the front.
Eli walked into the open to face them.
Behind him stood Taza and the Apache men.
Naiche waited near the barn.
The twenty-five women quietly positioned themselves around the ranch buildings.
Nobody wanted war.
But nobody intended to run anymore.
Silas stopped fifty yards from Eli.
“You’ve made this expensive, Caldwell.”
Eli shrugged.
“Send me a bill.”
“This isn’t your fight.”
“You burned my property.”
Silas smiled.
“Can you prove it?”
“You took children.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Funny thing about you, Silas. Every sentence you say sounds like something a guilty man practiced beforehand.”
A few of the Bar W riders laughed uneasily.
Silas did not.
“I want that map.”
“No.”
“The ledger.”
“No.”
“And the Apaches off this property.”
Eli looked behind him.
Several children were standing beside the barn.
Among them was the little boy he had helped drink when the group first arrived.
Eli turned back to Silas.
“No.”
Silas released a slow breath.
“You buried a wife once, didn’t you?”
Everything seemed to stop.
Eli’s expression changed.
Whitlock continued.
“Sarah, wasn’t it?”
Eli’s hand tightened.
“And a boy.”
Naiche saw something dangerous appear behind Eli’s eyes.
Silas smiled.
“You should’ve learned the lesson the first time. Caring about people gives another man something he can take from you.”
Eli walked forward.
One step.
Then another.
Several of Silas’s riders reached toward their weapons.
Eli stopped.
“You’re wrong.”
Silas lifted an eyebrow.
“Losing them taught me something different.”
“What?”
“That surviving after you’ve already lost everything makes men like you very hard to fear.”
Silas’s smile vanished.
Eli went on.
“And now you have a bigger problem.”
“What problem?”
“You came here thinking these people were hiding behind me.”
Eli glanced back.
“They aren’t.”
Taza stepped forward.
Then Naiche.
Then the others.
“They’re standing beside me.”
Silas looked across the gathering.
For the first time, Eli saw uncertainty cross his face.
Silas pulled his horse around.
“Tomorrow.”
Eli frowned.
“Tomorrow what?”
“I come back with everyone.”
Silas pointed toward the ranch.
“And when I leave, Caldwell Ranch won’t exist.”
He rode away.
All fourteen men followed him.
That evening, Mercer returned.
Eli told him what had happened.
The marshal swore under his breath.
“How many men can he bring?”
“Thirty.”
Eli considered it.
“Maybe forty.”
Mercer looked around the ranch.
“We can’t defend this place against forty armed men.”
Taza answered before anyone else could.
“We do not defend ranch.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Taza pointed west.
“Defend water.”
Eli understood immediately.
Red Stone Canyon.
Narrow approaches.
High ground.
And the spring Whitlock had taken.
If they were going to make their stand, they would make it over the very thing that had begun all of this.
Water.
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