Ethan felt a chill.

“Then someone wanted you to find my horse… and that map.”

Ayana looked up.

“Or they wanted us to find you afterward.”

Before Ethan could answer, a scout hurried into the circle and spoke to Whitehawk.

The chief’s expression changed.

“What is it?” Ethan asked.

Whitehawk looked at him.

“Twenty-three cattle bearing your brand are entering our valley.”

Ethan went pale.

“I didn’t bring them.”

Ayana looked at the map again.

The route drawn on it ended exactly where those cattle had just appeared.

And the date written at the bottom was tomorrow.

# PART 3

“No one touches those cattle tonight,” Whitehawk ordered.

Several men protested.

So did Ethan.

“They’re mine. If someone is driving them here, I have to stop them.”

Ayana stepped between him and the trail.

“That is exactly what they expect.”

Ethan stared at her.

“Who?”

“We don’t know yet.”

Ayana pointed to the map.

“But someone took your horse, left it where we could find it, and put this on the saddle. Now your cattle are appearing in our valley.”

Whitehawk understood first.

“They want it to look as though Ethan knew they were coming.”

Ayana nodded.

“Or as though we stole them.”

Silence spread again.

Ethan looked toward the darkness of the canyon.

If twenty or thirty of his animals appeared inside territory used by Whitehawk’s community, any rancher following the tracks could reach a dangerous conclusion.

And someone seemed to be counting on exactly that.

“I need to see them,” Ethan said.

Ayana replied:

“So do I.”

Whitehawk shook his head.

“You’ll wait until there’s light.”

“By then, whoever brought them may be gone,” Ayana replied.

Her father studied her for several seconds.

“You will not go alone.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

She looked at Ethan.

He understood.

An hour later, Ayana, Ethan, and two men Whitehawk trusted moved without torches along a narrow trail.

They weren’t looking for a fight.

They were looking for answers.

Moonlight barely illuminated the rocks.

Ayana went first.

Ethan quickly discovered that she knew every curve of the terrain.

She stopped where he would have kept going.

Looked at the ground.

Listened.

Then moved again.

Finally, they found the cattle.

They were gathered in a dry creek bed, restless but unharmed.

Ethan recognized his brand.

“They’re from the group I left in the western pasture.”

Ayana studied the ground.

“How many people would it take to bring them here?”

“Two could do it if they know cattle. Three would make it easier.”

Ayana pointed to several tracks.

“Three horses.”

Ethan crouched.

One set of tracks was different.

The left rear horseshoe left an incomplete impression.

A small section of the edge was missing.

The same kind of track Whitehawk had described beside Ethan’s horse.

“It’s the same animal,” he said.

Ayana gently shook her head.

“We can’t know whether it’s the same horse.”

Ethan looked at her in surprise.

“But—”

“We can say it has the same broken horseshoe. Nothing more.”

Ethan almost smiled.

“You don’t like claiming something you can’t prove.”

“Do you?”

“Less and less.”

Ayana stood.

“That also explains why I pointed at you.”

Even there, surrounded by stolen cattle and an unknown threat, Ethan felt warmth rise to his face.

“I don’t think this is the best time to talk about that.”

“Probably not.”

Ayana looked at the tracks leading away from the creek bed.

“Come on.”

The three sets of tracks continued west.

They didn’t follow them far.

Ayana stopped on a rise from which they could see a small fire in the distance.

Three men were resting beside their horses.

Ethan narrowed his eyes.

He didn’t recognize two of them.

The third, he did.

Gideon Pike.

He owned a ranch west of Ethan’s land.

He had more cattle, more workers, and a reputation as a man capable of waiting years for a piece of property he wanted.

Ethan had twice rejected his offers for a strip along the northern edge of his ranch.

Ayana noticed his reaction.

“You know him.”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust him?”

Ethan took too long to answer.

“No.”

Ayana looked back toward the camp.

“Then we don’t approach them.”

Ethan wanted to confront him.

It showed.

But he remembered his own words in front of Whitehawk.

He didn’t know enough.

Not yet.

They withdrew without being seen.

Before dawn, they drove the cattle out of the creek bed, but they didn’t take them directly to the village.

Ayana insisted on leaving them in an open area clearly visible from the main trail.

“If someone comes looking for stolen cattle,” she explained, “they’ll find them here before they can claim they were hidden among our homes.”

Ethan understood.

She wasn’t merely protecting her people.

She was protecting the truth.

When they returned, Whitehawk listened to everything.

At the mention of Gideon Pike’s name, his expression hardened.

“That man has already passed near our western boundaries.”

Ethan raised his head.

“When?”

“Twice this winter.”

“What did he want?”

“He asked about water.”

That made Ethan go still.

On the northern strip of his ranch was a small but reliable spring.

It wasn’t impressive.

But in that territory, during the dry months, it could keep a herd alive.

Gideon had asked about that section of property in every offer he had made.

Ethan had always assumed he simply wanted to expand his grazing land.

Now he saw it differently.

“My spring is near the western pass,” he said.

Whitehawk nodded.

“And the pass continues into this valley.”

Ayana unfolded the map again.

The line drawn from Ethan’s ranch crossed precisely through that area.

It no longer looked like just any route.

It was a corridor of water and grazing land.

“Pike wants that pass,” Ethan said.

Ayana corrected him.

“That’s what it looks like.”

He gave a short, humorless laugh.

“You really won’t let anyone claim anything too soon.”

“Not if we want the truth to survive tomorrow.”

The word made everyone look at the date on the map.

Tomorrow.

Which, with dawn approaching, now meant that very day.

Whitehawk sent observers to the ridges.

He ordered that no one provoke a confrontation.

Ethan wanted to return to his ranch immediately.

Ayana objected.

“If Pike left men there, arriving alone is exactly what they expect.”

“I can’t stay here while someone moves my cattle.”

“Your cattle are alive, and we know where they are. What we still don’t know is what they intended to do next.”

Ethan looked at her in frustration.

“It’s my ranch.”

“And these are my people.”

The words stopped him.

Ayana continued:

“If someone is trying to turn one against the other, neither of us can act as though only our side matters.”

Ethan lowered his gaze.

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

He looked at her.

Ayana allowed herself a small smile.

“That, I can say with certainty.”

Shortly after sunrise, dust appeared to the west.

Five riders were coming down the trail.

Gideon Pike rode in front.

Beside him rode the territorial sheriff for the area.