Everett's hands remained at his sides. Mercer stepped closer. You had peace before she came. Everett said nothing. You had water trouble.
We settled it like ranchers. No, Everett said. You took it in the dark. Mercer's face hardened. And now you've got half the county in our business because she filled your head with foolishness.
Everett's right hand closed. Rebecca saw it. So did Mercer. That was what he wanted. Rebecca understood it at once.
One blow from Everett could erase Walter's testimony in every saloon conversation by sundown. Nobody would talk about survey stakes. They would talk about Big Hail losing his temper. Mercer moved one step nearer. Well, Everett's fist tightened until the knuckles whitened.
Then he looked at Rebecca. Not for permission, not for rescue. Only long enough to remember something. His hand opened. Rebecca doesn't make my decisions.
Mercer gave a short laugh. Everett continued. She makes me think hard enough to make better ones. Nobody laughed with Mercer. The giant cowboy stepped aside, not backward, aside, leaving the road open.
Mercer stood there with nothing left to provoke. By mid-afternoon, Commissioner Dyer had ridden upstream with Walter, Everett, Rebecca, Franklin, and two witnesses. They found the cottonwood. Walter knelt beside its roots and dug through damp earth with a short spade. 6 in down, iron struck wood.
The old survey marker came free, dark with soil. Dyer compared its markings with the earlier creek record. Then he walked the abandoned channel himself. When they returned to Copper Ridge near sunset, his preliminary order was brief. The private diversion was to be opened.
The shared channel was to be restored pending territorial review. No celebration followed. Everett only removed his hat and rubbed a hand through his hair. Rebecca sat on the courthouse steps. For the first time in days, she seemed tired.
Everett walked over. The cattle should have water again by tomorrow. Rebecca nodded.” Good. “He sat beside her. The step looked almost too small beneath him.
Neither spoke for a while. Then Rebecca asked,” What did you tell people when I left? “” Nothing. “” Nothing? “” You didn't owe the valley an explanation. “She turned toward him and when Mercer said I was using you, I figured anyone who believed him wasn't waiting for facts. Rebecca studied his profile. You never told them what we were.
Everett looked at her then. What were we? The question was gentle. That made it harder. Rebecca lowered her gaze to her hands.
I don't know. Neither did I. His boot scraped softly against the step. I knew what I hoped. Rebecca's eyes lifted.
Everett did not reach for her. Did not make a promise. Dar did not ask her to return to Hail Creek. That was when she understood. All this time she had feared that loving a man with Everett's land, strength, and reputation would slowly cost her the small pieces of independence she had fought to keep.