Chapter 11 - The Secret Beneath the Well
Before their final march toward the settlement, Tazhi led Corvin back across the smoking ruins of his homestead.
The log cabin was reduced to ash and blackened iron nails. Corvin stood among the charred debris of his former life, a heavy sorrow settling in his chest.
"Everything I worked seven years for," he said quietly.
"Look closer, Corvin," Tazhi told him, walking to the edge of the stone well.
She took the winch handle and dropped the bucket down into the black depths. When she wound the rope back up, the water inside was not clear; it had a strange, iridescent silver sheen.
She tipped the bucket onto the scorched ground. As the water soaked into the dirt, it revealed brilliant flakes of raw native silver and gold-flecked quartz.
"Your well does not tap an ordinary spring," she explained. "It draws from the deep underground river that flows out of the Sacred Mountain. Our ancestors sealed this place two hundred years ago to keep the Spanish conquistadors from destroying the earth. When you dug your well, you pierced the ancient vault."
Corvin stared into the depths of the stone shaft. "Vance knew."
"Vance had the old Spanish maps," she answered. "He did not just want to steal land. He wanted to claim an empire of silver beneath your boots. That is why you had to die. That is why we had to die."
Corvin picked up a handful of the wet, shimmering gravel. He let it slip through his fingers.
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"I never cared about silver," he said, turning toward her. "I only wanted peace."
"Peace is not found in the ground, rancher," Tazhi said softly, her hand touching his arm. "It is fought for with blood. Let us finish this."
