Everett's eyes narrowed slightly. You think something's blocking it? I think I'd rather look than guess. The midday meal was served late. Rebecca left Franklin in charge of keeping the pots warm, which produced an expression from the foreman, suggesting he'd rather rope a wild bull than supervise biscuits.
Then she saddled a bay mare Everett chose for her.” You ride. “Rebecca put her foot in the stirrup. I came west on stage coaches, not in a crate. Everett wisely said nothing else. They followed Hail Creek north and east.
At first, the water moved normally beneath the cottonwoods, though shallower than Rebecca remembered. Farther upstream, exposed stones appeared along the banks. They passed the hail boundary fence. Everett stopped. Beyond here is shared range access.
Mercer land starts another mile east. Rebecca studied the creek. A branch floated against a rock, caught, turned, and stayed there. Hardly any current. They continued.
Half a mile farther, Rebecca noticed mud on the grass. Not dried flood mud, fresh earth. She dismounted. Everett followed. A narrow wagon track disappeared through the cottonwoods.
Rebecca crouched beside it. The ground showed shovel marks, dozens. Someone had tried brushing loose grass across them. Everett. He was already looking beyond her.
They pushed through the trees. The creek divided ahead. Except it shouldn't have. A fresh earthn bank cut across part of the natural channel, reinforced with stones and timber. Water that should have continued west toward Hail Creek Ranch had been turned into a newly dug ditch running southeast toward the Barm.
Everett went completely still. Rebecca had seen that stillness before. It was more alarming than shouting. He stepped into the shallow creek and examined the timbers. One bore a fresh axe scar.
Another had a barm hauling mark burned faintly into its side. Everett stood. Mercer. Rebecca said nothing. He walked toward his horse.
Everett. He took the res. Everett. He's stealing water. I can see that my cattle are crowding mud while he's cutting my creek.
He put one boot into the stirrup. Rebecca moved before she had time to reconsider. She caught his horse's bridal. The geling tossed its head. Everett froze.
Move your hand, Rebecca. No. His voice dropped. I don't want the horse hurting you. Then don't ride him through me.
For several seconds, they stared at each other. Everett's face was tight, but his hands remained controlled on the reinss. Let go. What happens when you reach Mercer's ranch? I asked him what he's doing looking like that.
What do I look like? Like a man Mercer hopes will hit him. That stopped him. Rebecca kept her hand on the bridal. He knows what people say about you.
Everett's jaw tightened. That's got nothing to do with water. It will the moment you put him on the ground. I didn't say I'd hit him. You didn't have to.