The judge looked toward him.
“Your position?”
The cowboy stood.
“The shared-access agreement remains.”
The broker’s lawyer looked surprised.
So did several people in the room.
The judge asked:
“You are not challenging it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
The cowboy looked toward the Apache woman sitting behind him.
Then back toward the judge.
“Because I am here to defend what belongs to me.”
“Not to take what doesn’t.”
Silence.
The judge nodded.
The Apache woman looked down.
Her eyes had filled.
Later, outside the courthouse, the cowboy approached her.
She was standing beside the horses.
He asked:
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“That is my bad answer.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
She looked toward him.
“You could have tried.”
“For what?”
“The full spring.”
“Yes.”
“Your attorney wanted you to.”
“Yes.”
“You need the financing.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“Why didn’t you?”
The cowboy frowned.
“I told the judge.”
“Tell me.”
He moved closer.
“Because I love you.”
Her expression changed immediately.
He continued before she could stop him.
“But not only because I love you.”
Good.
He understood.
“If we stopped loving each other tomorrow, the water still would not become mine.”
She stared.
He continued:
“If you rode away tonight and never came back, your family’s right would still exist.”
“If you married somebody else, still.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“That part was unnecessary.”
He smiled.
“I’m making a point.”
“Poorly.”
He laughed.
Then:
“I finally understand something.”
“What?”
“Respect that depends on affection is not respect.”
The woman went quiet.
The cowboy added:
“I want the agreement honored because it is right.”
“Not because I want you to stay.”
She looked at him for a long time.
Then stepped closer.
“Now you may kiss me.”
He smiled.
“Very generous.”
“Do not ruin it.”
He kissed her.
The legal challenge ended six weeks later.
The broker’s claim failed.
Investigators uncovered inconsistencies in several of his filings.
He left the territory before another hearing.
The cowboy considered pursuing him.
For about twenty minutes.
Then the Apache woman said:
“You have one hundred yards of broken fence.”
“Thirty-eight cattle.”
“A roof leaking above your own bed.”
“And no flour.”
The cowboy stared.
“You are saying my priorities are wrong.”
“Yes.”
“What about justice?”
“Justice can proceed without you chasing a man through the desert like an idiot.”
The foreman, overhearing, called from the barn:
“She’s right!”
The cowboy shouted:
“No one asked you!”