“Survey markers.”
“Yes.”
“When did those appear?”
“I don’t know.”
Clara looked at the lettering stamped into one.
W.T.R. CO.
“What company?”
Tomás stared.
Then remembered.
“Wyoming Territorial Rail.”
Clara stood.
Neither spoke.
Railroad.
Water.
A ranch in debt.
A neighbor desperate to buy.
Suddenly the land beneath them changed value without moving an inch.
Tomás whispered, “Oh God.”
Clara looked toward the valley.
“Mercer doesn’t want cattle land.”
“No.”
“He wants the spring.”
Tomás felt dizzy.
“If the railway crosses here…”
“They’ll need water.”
“Yes.”
“How much would that be worth?”
Tomás laughed.
Not from humor.
“Enough.”
“Enough for what?”
He looked at her.
“The bank.”
Clara’s face remained calm.
Then Tomás understood something worse.
“If Mercer knew…”
“He could buy the ranch at foreclosure.”
“For four thousand.”
“Or less.”
“And lease the spring to the railroad.”
“Yes.”
Tomás clenched his jaw.
“He tried to bankrupt me.”
“Maybe.”
Tomás glared.
Clara almost smiled.
“Fine.”
She looked at the survey stake.
“Probably.”
He laughed despite himself.
Then a rifle cracked.
The shot hit the rock beside Clara.
Tomás threw himself toward her.
“Down!”
A second shot struck the pine.
They crawled behind limestone.
Tomás drew his revolver.
“Where?”
Clara pointed toward the western ridge.
Movement.
A rider.
No.
Two.
They disappeared among trees.
Tomás fired once.
Too far.
Silence returned.
Clara’s breathing was heavy.
Tomás looked at her.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
He grabbed her shoulders.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He searched her face.
Arms.
Dress.
No blood.
Relief hit so hard it became anger.
“I told you this ranch was a ruin.”
Clara stared.
“What?”
“I brought you here and now people are shooting at you.”
“Tomás—”
“You should go.”
Her expression changed.
There it was.
The mistake.
Again.
Clara stood slowly.
He reached.
She stepped away.
“You truly learn slowly.”
“Someone just tried to kill us.”
“Yes.”
“You could die.”
“So could you.”
“This was my problem.”
She looked at the survey stakes.
“No.”
“It was.”
“Before Sunday.”
Tomás stopped.
Clara stepped toward him.
“I married you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you keep behaving as though marriage made me your responsibility without making you mine.”
Tomás stared.
The words went through every defense.