For three days.
Then everything happened at once.
A messenger came from town with notice that a land broker intended to file an emergency claim against the northern spring.
The Apache woman read the papers.
Her expression changed.
She asked:
“Where is the original deed?”
“In the box.”
“Bring it.”
He did.
She studied the reverse side longer than the front.
Then asked:
“Did your mother ever mention a second signature?”
“No.”
She looked toward him.
“There is residue here.”
“From what?”
“A seal.”
He frowned.
She turned the paper under the light.
Something faint appeared along the lower fold.
Not ink.
Pressure marks.
Like writing once covered by another sheet.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
He hated that answer.
She added:
“But I know someone who might.”
“Who?”
“A former territorial clerk.”
“Where?”
“South.”
“How far?”
“Two days.”
The cowboy shook his head.
“We don’t have two days.”
“You don’t.”
She folded the deed.
“I do.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What are you saying?”
“I can leave tonight.”
“No.”
Her expression sharpened.
“No?”
“You are not riding two days alone carrying the only original paper protecting this ranch.”
“Then send someone else.”
“I will.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the bunkhouse.
The foreman had a bad knee.
The younger ranch hand could barely read.
The other had gone to Flagstaff.
The woman waited.
The cowboy said:
“I’ll go.”
“Then who handles the filing here?”
Silence.
She nodded.
“That is what I thought.”
He hated logic when it belonged to someone else.
“I’ll send you with one of the men.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I travel faster alone.”
“That is not—”
“Cowboy.”
Her voice changed.
He stopped.
She held the deed against her chest.
“I came here by myself.”
“I know.”
“I crossed country before I met you.”
“I know.”
“I survived years in which you were not available to approve my decisions.”
He looked away.
She continued more softly:
“You are not worried because I am incapable.”
“No.”
“You are worried because now you care what happens to me.”
That landed.
He looked at her.
She was watching him carefully.
Not mocking.
He said:
“Yes.”
No point lying.
Her expression softened.
“So am I.”
His breath stopped.
“About what?”
She looked down at the deed.
Then back at him.
“You.”
Neither spoke.
He stepped closer.
She did not step away.
For one second, he thought he might kiss her.