Chapter 8 - The Marshal’s Ledger
Under the pale light of morning filtering through the cave’s narrow entrance, Tazhi laid out the papers recovered from Vance's riders.
"It is worse than I thought," Corvin said, tracing the signatures with a dirty finger. "Vance isn't acting alone. The territorial governor's secretary is on this document. And look here—the railroad company has already bought rights-of-way through the canyon."
"They knew the Apache would fight when they stole the land," Tazhi said. "They planned for it. They wanted an uprising. An uprising gives the territorial government an excuse to bring in two full regiments of cavalry with Gatling guns to exterminate our people once and for all."
"And my ranch was the spark," Corvin realized with mounting fury. "If Vance killed me and made it look like an Apache attack, the whole territory would scream for blood. The cavalry would march by the weekend."
"Then we do not give them an excuse," a voice boomed from the cave entrance.
Chief Nana stepped out from the shadows of the rock ledge, accompanied by two medicine men and three towering war chiefs. His weathered face was set like granite.
"The time for hiding in the rocks is finished," the old chief declared. "The war council has assembled at the base of the sacred spire. Corvin Torne will speak before them."
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Corvin struggled to his feet, his shoulder burning. "Me? Why would your warriors listen to an outsider?"
"Because," Nana answered, stepping close and pointing to the black amulet hanging around Corvin’s neck, "you wear the stone of Geronimo's bloodline. And because you are the only white man alive who can walk into the courthouse in Dry Creek and force them to look upon their own treason."
