But Thomas soon discovered that several maps had been deliberately altered.
Water sources used by Apache families were described as unoccupied.
Seasonal fields were marked as vacant.
Long-established travel routes were labeled unused.
And the boundary of the community's river settlement had been shifted several miles west.
The changes were not harmless mistakes.
They would allow contractors to claim access to water, timber, and land while portraying the people already living there as trespassers.
Thomas objected.
He asked for additional witnesses.
He compared the official maps with older surveys.
And he began recording the testimony of families who could identify the river's historic crossings and places of settlement.
Willow Song had helped him communicate with elders.
Iron Elk, younger then, had accompanied several of the surveys.
And Ren's grandmother, a respected negotiator who understood both English and the languages used by neighboring communities, had helped Thomas record the information accurately.
Elias listened without speaking.
Willow Song continued.
"Your father was not perfect."
He looked up.
"What do you mean?"
"He believed a truthful map would make powerful men behave honestly."
Her expression became sad.
"He was young enough to think evidence alone could protect people."
Elias lowered his gaze.
Willow Song touched the watch.
"But he listened. That mattered."
She turned the case over.
"The engraving was made here. Your father said he wanted to remember the river as it truly ran, not as his employers wanted it drawn."
Elias stared at the little winding line.
For twenty years, he believed the engraving was simply decorative.
Now he understood it carried a promise.
"What happened when he finished the survey?"
Willow Song looked toward the doorway.
"He planned to take the original records to Tucson."
"Did he?"
"Yes."
"Did he reach it?"
She hesitated.
"We believe so."
Elias leaned forward.
"And afterward?"
The old woman's face tightened.
"He returned to the mountains."
Elias felt his pulse quicken.
"When?"
"Several weeks later."
"Was he hurt?"
Willow Song looked surprised.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because he never came home."
Her expression softened.
Elias continued.
"I've spent twenty years wondering whether he died in the desert, was robbed on the trail, or simply decided he didn't want the life he left behind."
His voice grew rough.
"Was he hurt when he came back?"
Willow Song looked at him for a long moment.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
Elias closed his eyes.
She continued quietly.
"He had been attacked on the road."
He opened his eyes.
"By whom?"
"Men working for a contractor."
"What contractor?"
Willow Song hesitated.
Then spoke the name.
"Silas Crane."
Elias had heard it before.
In Lark Spur Flat.
At the general store.
From a friend who warned him that men connected to the fort were interested in the riverland.
He looked toward the old woman.
"Is Crane still alive?"
She nodded.
"And wealthy."
Elias's jaw tightened.
Willow Song placed one hand over his.
"Do not let anger make you careless."