They reached Willow Spring shortly before dusk.
Or what should have been Willow Spring.
The pool was dry.
Mara dismounted and stared at the cracked mud.
“That is impossible.”
“Springs fail.”
“Not this one.”
She walked upstream.
Elias followed.
Two hundred yards into a narrow ravine they found the answer.
Dynamite.
The watercourse had been deliberately collapsed beneath tons of rock.
Elias crouched.
“Rourke.”
Mara touched the shattered stone.
“They knew we would use the high trail.”
“Then someone told them.”
She stood slowly.
“Someone in the camp?”
“Or someone who knows your trails.”
Her gaze hardened.
“My people do not sell our roads.”
“Every people has men who sell something.”
Mara turned on him.
“You think one of us betrayed you?”
“I think Rourke knew where we’d go.”
“That is not proof.”
“No.”
“Then do not accuse.”
“I didn’t.”
“You thought it.”
“I think a lot of things.”
“That is your problem.”
She walked away.
Elias let her.
They rationed what water remained.
Enough for perhaps a day.
Fort Brennan was still almost sixty miles away.
By midnight, thunder rolled over the mountains.
Mara sat beneath a juniper, awake.
Elias joined her.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I can’t.”
“Neither can I.”
Lightning flickered far to the south.
After several minutes Mara said, “My father trusted white officials.”
Elias said nothing.
“He believed agreements mattered if both sides understood the words.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“He was wrong.”
“Maybe the men were wrong.”
“That distinction did not save him.”
“No.”
She looked at Elias.
“You defend your world often.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe because you speak of it like every person in it is the same.”
“And we are all different?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps we both make the same mistake.”
Elias considered that.
“Fair.”
Mara looked surprised.
“You say that often.”
“What?”
“Fair.”
“My father used to say most fights grow because somebody values winning more than being fair.”
“Was he wise?”
“No. He once tried to milk a bull.”
Mara stared at him.
Then she laughed.
Not the restrained half-smile he had seen before.
A real laugh.
Bright and sudden.
Elias found himself staring.
She noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You are looking strangely.”
“I’ve never heard you laugh.”
“That is because you are rarely funny.”
“Cruel.”
Her smile lingered.
Then she asked, “Were you married?”
The question caught him.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I nearly was.”
“What happened?”
“She realized she wanted a banker.”
“And you were a cowboy.”
“Surveyor.”
“With a cowboy hat.”
“It’s a good hat.”
“She chose the banker?”
“Yes.”
“Are you angry?”
“No. She has three children and a house in St. Louis. Last I heard, she was happy.”
“You do not hate her?”
“For choosing the life she wanted?”
Mara shook her head.
“No.”
“Then no.”
She studied him again.
“What?”
“I am reconsidering.”
“What?”
“Whether you are worth following.”
Elias smiled.
“Progress.”
“I did not say the answer improved.”
