But Silas Rusk was not willing to lose the North Fork claim quietly.
He had invested heavily in the proposed freight route.
The altered boundary supported agreements that promised him exclusive access to valuable land and water.
If the survey was corrected, those agreements could collapse.
Investors might demand repayment.
Landholders might challenge prior transactions.
And officials could begin asking questions about how the altered documents had been accepted.
Rusk had built his business on the assumption that most people would not challenge him.
Now a widow, a mountain trapper, an attorney, and an elderly surveyor were threatening years of carefully arranged transactions.
One evening, Rusk summoned Harris Crowe to his office.
The room smelled of tobacco and expensive leather.
A large map covered the wall.
Rusk stood beside it wearing a dark vest and a white shirt.
He was fifty-four, heavyset, with cold gray eyes and a neatly trimmed beard.
Crowe entered.
"You wanted me?"
Rusk turned.
"Haldane's survey."
Crowe nodded.
"He's still working."
"How much does he have?"
"Enough to cause trouble."
Rusk's expression hardened.
"Where are his copies?"
"Some in town. Some with Mercer. The original notes are with him."
Rusk stared at the map.
Then looked toward Crowe.
"What about the old upper diversion?"
Crowe frowned.
"The one near the abandoned timber dam?"
"Yes."
"What about it?"
Rusk tapped the map.
"If that channel floods, the lower crossing becomes unusable. The survey work stops. The ranchers start worrying about spring water."
Crowe studied him.
"You want me to damage the dam?"
Rusk smiled thinly.
"I want you to arrange a situation that encourages everyone to reconsider whether they have time for a legal dispute."
Crowe looked uneasy.
"The runoff's already high."
"Then nature will do most of the work."
He looked toward the window.
"People understand a flooded creek. They don't understand survey papers."
Crowe stared at him.
For the first time, he seemed to recognize how far Rusk was willing to go.
Then the businessman added quietly.
"And if any of those papers happen to disappear in the confusion, so much the better."
The first sign of danger appeared three days later.
Ruth arrived at Frost Creek shortly after breakfast.
Her wagon wheels were muddy.
Her face was pale.
"Gideon."
He stepped outside.
"What happened?"
"The upper creek's rising."
He frowned.
"Snowmelt?"
"Too fast."
Lydia appeared in the doorway.
Ruth looked toward her.
"The water's coming down brown. Carrying branches. More than it should."
Gideon's expression hardened.
He looked toward the mountains.
A warm rain had fallen during the night.
The snowpack above the basin was beginning to melt.
But something about Ruth's description troubled him.
"Did you check the lower crossing?"
"Not yet. Elsie's watching the stock."
Gideon turned toward Lydia.
"We need to look."
She nodded.
"I'll get my cloak."
He hesitated.
"Lydia, the ground may be dangerous."
She met his eyes.
"Then we'll take care."
Gideon studied her.
Then nodded.
Together, they prepared to ride.