A Lost Cowboy Bathed In A Forbidden Apache River — Then The Chief Told Him He Was Expected To Marry His Daughter

A Lost Cowboy Bathed In A Forbidden Apache River — Then The Chief Told Him He Was Expected To Marry His Daughter

Chapter 3

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Tahoma’s expression hardened.

“Three nights ago, his men entered the northern grazing fields.”

Yara spoke next.

“They took two horses.”

Eli looked toward her.

“They tried for twelve.”

“What stopped them?”

“We did.”

She did not elaborate.

Tahoma continued.

“They will return.”

White Cedar looked toward Eli.

“Our horses are the future of Red Mesa.”

Another elder, an older woman called Naya, added, “Voss knows their value.”

Eli thought of Jasper.

Then of the Apache-bred horses he had seen below.

“How many men?”

“Perhaps sixteen,” Yara said.

“Rifles?”

“Yes.”

“Experienced?”

“Enough.”

Eli glanced around the circle.

“And you think I change that?”

Tahoma answered.

“You understand horse thieves.”

“I understand horses.”

“You understand towns.”

“Unfortunately.”

“You can enter places our scouts cannot without attracting danger.”

Eli saw the shape of the problem.

“So the river tradition suddenly becomes useful.”

Yara looked annoyed.

“That is exactly what I said last night.”

Tahoma ignored her.

“I am not asking you to marry my daughter because I need a messenger.”

“Good.”

“I am saying the timing matters.”

White Cedar spoke.

“A stranger enters Moon Promise on the same week Red Mesa may lose everything.”

He looked around the circle.

“Perhaps tradition is not about obeying old words literally.”

Yara raised an eyebrow.

“That would have been useful to hear twenty years ago.”

Several elders smiled despite themselves.

White Cedar continued.

“Perhaps tradition means recognizing what arrives when we need it.”

Eli exhaled.

That sounded less insane.

“What exactly would you need from me?”

Tahoma answered.

“Help us understand Voss.”

“Help us prepare.”

“Help us speak with people outside this valley.”

“And after that?”

Tahoma looked toward Yara.

“The marriage decision belongs to two people.”

That surprised her.

“Father?”

He looked at her.

“I will not give you to a man like a horse.”

The entire circle became quiet.

“Then the tradition?”

Tahoma smiled faintly.

“The tradition brought him here.”

He gestured toward Eli.

“It does not get to speak his vows.”

Yara stared at him.

For the first time since Eli met her, she looked close to tears.

Eli cleared his throat.

“In that case, I’ll help.”

Tahoma nodded.

Yara looked toward him.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“California?”

“California will probably still be there next month.”

That drew laughter.

Eli continued.

“But I have conditions.”

Tahoma’s smile widened.

“Of course you do.”

“I need everything you know about Voss.”

“Agreed.”

“I need authority to change patrols and horse movement if I see something your people haven’t considered.”

Yara folded her arms.

“You will work with me, not command me.”

Eli nodded.

“Fair.”

“And?”

He looked at her.

“We stop treating each other like punishment from the spirits.”

Yara thought about that.

“Agreed.”

The horse corrals changed everything.

Eli had spent most of his life around ranch stock. He knew mustangs, working horses, Army remounts, stubborn geldings, half-broken mares, and expensive animals whose owners knew more about money than horsemanship. The Red Mesa herd was unlike anything he had seen.

The horses were compact, muscular, intelligent, and astonishingly calm. Several lines had been bred for endurance across rocky desert terrain, while others possessed speed that would have made racing men rich. Eli understood immediately why Lucien Voss wanted them.

“These aren’t horses,” he whispered.

Yara leaned against the fence.

“What are they?”

“Trouble with four legs.”

She smiled.

A black stallion approached Eli.

He held out one hand.

The horse sniffed him, then lowered his head.

Yara looked impressed despite herself.

“He doesn’t like strangers.”

“Horses like people who don’t lie to them.”

“Convenient philosophy.”

“It keeps me employed.”

They spent the morning studying patrol routes.

Yara knew every canyon.

Eli understood how horse thieves thought.

“Your people watch the obvious trail.”

“Because that is where they came last time.”

“That is why they will not come there again.”

She looked annoyed.

Then thoughtful.

“What would you use?”

He pointed toward a narrow wash on the map.

“This.”

“That path is terrible.”

“For horses, yes.”

“For men?”

“Possible.”

Yara smiled slightly.

“You really have done this before.”

“I’ve chased stolen cattle.”

“Not the same.”

“No.”

He looked at the map.

“Thieves are thieves.”

By afternoon, Eli asked for the fastest horse available and enough provisions to reach Red Rock.

Yara frowned.

“You’re leaving?”

“Only temporarily.”

“Why?”

“Because everything we know about Voss comes from what you’ve seen here.”

He tapped the map.

“I want to know what people outside are saying.”

“I’ll come.”

“No.”

Her eyes hardened.

“Excuse me?”

“You and I entering Red Rock together will draw every eye on the street.”

“So?”

“So a stranger cowboy asking about another outlaw is ordinary.”

Eli paused.

“A cowboy arriving with the chief’s daughter from a hidden Apache settlement is a story.”

Yara hated that he was right.

He continued.

“You organize patrols while I’m gone.”

“Giving orders already?”

“I thought we were partners.”

She stared.

He grinned.

“Partners use whichever person fits the job.”

Her expression softened.

“Fine.”

Then she pointed a finger at him.

“If you disappear toward California, I will find you.”

“That sounds almost romantic.”

“It was a threat.”

“Still flattering.”

She rolled her eyes.

Red Rock sat six hours southwest of the valley.

Eli rode a dun mare named Copperwind into town near sunset. He left her at a stable, bought a room above the general store, and spent two days listening more than talking.

Lucien Voss was known everywhere.

Nobody liked him.

Nobody challenged him.

The sheriff drank in the same saloon where Voss’s men spent money.

That told Eli enough.

A horse broker confirmed Voss had a buyer waiting in Sonora for “thirty desert-bred animals.” A blacksmith mentioned extra ammunition being purchased by men riding north. An old freight driver said Voss had been asking about Red Mesa’s hidden valley.

The worst information came from a gambler who had worked briefly with the gang.

“They’re not stealing a few horses next time.”

Eli bought him whiskey.

“What are they doing?”

“Taking the whole herd.”

“How?”

The man laughed.

“Can’t keep coming back if the owners are still alive.”

Eli stopped smiling.

“They plan to attack the settlement.”

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A Lost Cowboy Bathed In A Forbidden Apache River — Then The Chief Told Him He Was Expected To Marry His Daughter

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