He was an older man with a face like a crumpled map and sad, kind eyes. He had been the one to check Naya after the dust storm, though he had said little then. "Elias, Naya," the doctor said quietly, looking over his shoulder to ensure Harlan was out of earshot. "Doctor," Elias said warily. "Listen to me," Aris said.
"Harlan is looking for a way to squeeze you. He wants your water rights, and he hates what you two represent. That paper you have, Thorne's contract, it is weak. If they bring a judge down from Santa Fe, they could annul it in a heartbeat. They could declare Naya a ward of the state and send her back to the reservation."
Naya gripped the saddle horn, her knuckles white. "What can we do?" she asked. Aris sighed. "Go to San Rosalita. It is three days ride south.
The Indian agent there has no love for Thorne, and there is a circuit judge who is an honest man. Get a real marriage license. Get it recorded in the territorial ledger. Make it ironclad. It will not stop the hate," Aris warned, "but it will give you a shield.
It will make it a hell of a lot harder for Harlan to touch her without bringing the federal government down on his head." "Thank you, Henry," Elias said, shaking the doctor's hand. "Go. Soon," Aris said, and slipped back into the shadows. The ride back to the ranch was quiet, the weight of Harlan's threat hanging over them like a thunderhead.
That night, they sat on the porch. The air was crisp. Naya was restless. She paced back and forth, her arms crossed. "He is right," she said suddenly.
"Who?" The doctor?" "And Harlan." She stopped and looked at Elias. "You called me your wife in front of them.
You made me proud, Elias, but in your heart, and in the law, am I just a woman you bought?" "No," Elias said, standing up. "Never." "Then prove it," she said. She walked up to him, her gaze fierce.
"Marry me, Elias. Not with a receipt from a slave trader. Marry me like you would marry a white woman. Stand before a judge and write our names together in the big book. Make it so that no man can say I am property."
Elias looked at her. He saw the fear behind the defiance. She needed to know that he was not just protecting her, but choosing her. "We leave tomorrow," Elias said. "We will go to San Rosalita."
The journey took 3 days. They rode through canyons of red rock and across plains of silver sage. It was a pilgrimage. They spoke little of the danger, focusing instead on the horizon. San Rosalita was a larger town, bustling and indifferent to strangers.