Chapter 12 - Betrayal in Iron Town
Dry Creek was a boomtown built on greed and violence—a single muddy street flanked by saloons, brothels, assay offices, and the brick fortress of the Territorial Bank.
Corvin rode down the center of the street alone, wearing his trail-dusted duster, his hat pulled low. Tazhi and the warriors remained outside town, hidden in the cottonwood groves along the dry riverbed, waiting for his signal.
The town was eerily quiet. Windows were shuttered. The saloon doors swung slightly in the dry wind.
Corvin hitched his horse outside the town marshal's office. He kicked the door open.
Inside, sitting behind a polished walnut desk, was not Marshal Vance, but Colonel Richard Bradley of the 6th Territorial Cavalry, flanked by six armed infantrymen with fixed bayonets.
"Mr. Torne," Bradley said, his voice clipped and aristocratic. "We’ve been waiting for you."
Corvin did not flinch. He drew the signed deeds and surveyor documents from his coat, tossing them onto the desk. "You're waiting for the wrong man, Colonel. Marshal Vance is running a treason ring. He forged these deeds to steal Indian lands and territorial water rights."
Colonel Bradley didn’t even look at the papers. He calmly struck a match and touched it to the corner of the documents.
The deeds curled into flame.
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"Did you really believe Marshal Vance was the master of this operation, Torne?" Bradley said with a mocking sneer. "Vance is merely my hound. I am the one who financed the railroad. I am the one who owns the mining syndicate."
Before Corvin could reach for his gun, two soldiers struck him from behind with their rifle butts. The world exploded into white sparks, then swallowed him into absolute darkness.
