“We make it look poorly guarded.”
Yara’s eyes narrowed.
“You want him inside the valley.”
“I want him committed.”
Tahoma listened.
Eli continued.
“Once Voss thinks he has the horses, he drives them through the narrow western canyon.”
White Cedar frowned.
“That canyon closes between two walls.”
“Yes.”
Yara smiled slowly.
“And we control the ridge above it.”
“Now you’re thinking like a horse thief.”
“Careful.”
The plan took shape.
Red Mesa would appear vulnerable.
Several corrals would remain visibly occupied.
Families would move quietly toward safer caves before the attack.
Warriors would withdraw from obvious defensive positions.
Then Voss would be allowed to enter far enough that retreat became difficult.
Nobody liked it.
That was probably why it had a chance.
For three days, Eli and Yara worked side by side.
They moved horses at night.
Prepared ropes and barriers.
Positioned scouts.
Marked escape routes.
Practiced signals.
Somewhere during those hours, they stopped thinking about Moon Promise.
They simply worked.
One evening, Yara handed Eli a bowl beside the fire.
“You were supposed to be a disaster.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint.”
“I didn’t say you stopped being one.”
He smiled.
She sat beside him.
“Tomorrow is the ceremony.”
Eli looked toward her.
Tahoma had left the final choice to them.
“You still want to do it?”
Yara watched the fire.
“A week ago, no.”
“And now?”
“I still hate the idea that a river chose anything for me.”
“Good.”
She looked at him.
“You agree?”
“I’d rather you choose.”
Something shifted in her expression.
“So would I.”
Eli waited.
Yara took a slow breath.
“I choose to see what happens.”
He smiled.
“That sounds dangerously close to yes.”
“It is the most yes you are getting tonight.”
He laughed.
The wedding took place the following morning.
Not because the elders demanded it.
Because two stubborn people who met under ridiculous circumstances decided they had built enough trust to try.
Yara wore white buckskin decorated with turquoise and shellwork. Eli wore a new dark vest over a linen shirt, with a woven sash gifted by one of the elders.
Tahoma spoke about two roads meeting without either disappearing.
White Cedar blessed them.
Children sang.
Then came the gifts.
Yara gave Eli a knife that had belonged to her grandfather.
“For someone who gets lost often.”
He smiled.
“Very thoughtful.”
Then Eli unfolded a document.
Tahoma frowned.
“What is that?”
“Something I arranged in Red Rock.”
He spread a hand-drawn map beside it.
Two days northwest of Red Mesa lay a narrow valley surrounded by cliffs. Eli had passed it while traveling west and remembered year-round seep water along one wall.
He had asked questions in town.
The land had recently become available under a territorial claim.
Eli used nearly every dollar he had intended for California to secure the filing.