Chapter 9 - Someone Closed the WaterHannah followed the tire tracks the next morning.
Clay wanted to come.
She said no.
He accepted the answer.
That still felt strange.
Hannah took Patch instead of Sable.
Sable remained with the herd.
The tracks led toward the Dalton spring.
When Hannah arrived, she dismounted.
The spring looked even worse than before.
But something bothered her.
Water should have been trickling from the rock face.
Instead it stopped abruptly.
Hannah climbed above the spring.
There, beneath scrub brush, she found a narrow drainage ditch.
Recently dug.
Water from the spring had been diverted west through black plastic pipe.
Hannah followed it.
Two hundred yards away, the pipe crossed an old fence.
Toward Wade’s leased pasture.
She took photographs.
No assumptions.
Evidence.
Then returned.
Clay examined the pictures.
“He diverted the spring.”
“Looks that way.”
“Is that legal?”
“I don’t know.”
Sarah Voss did.
“No,” she said when Hannah showed her.
“Not without permission from the landowner and potentially a water-use authorization.”
“Who owns Dalton land?”
“Bank trust.”
“Does Wade lease any?”
“A western section.”
“Spring?”
Sarah shook her head.
“Different parcel.”
Clay swore.
Hannah looked toward the herd.
“So their water disappeared because he took it.”
“Possibly.”
“Why?”
Sarah refused to speculate.
But Hannah had a theory.
Wade wanted the herd.
If the water dried up, horses would move.
Possibly toward his pasture.
Possibly into traps or fenced areas.
But Sable had changed that.
She had found the herd first.
Then led them home.
Sarah contacted the county.
By afternoon, a deputy and water official were inspecting the diversion.
Wade arrived furious.
“You trespassed!”
Hannah stayed behind the fence.
“The spring isn’t on your lease.”
“You don’t know where my lease runs.”
Sarah stepped in.
“We do.”
Wade’s face darkened.
He pointed at Hannah.
“This is because she wants those horses.”
“I don’t own them.”
“You think that gray is your mare’s mother.”
Hannah’s skin prickled.
“How do you know that?”
Wade realized too late.
She had told only Clay.
Howard.
Sarah.
None would have told him.
Unless—
“You knew Sable came from that herd.”
Wade laughed.
“Everybody knew.”
“No.”
Hannah stepped closer.
“You knew which herd.”
Clay moved beside her.
Wade looked toward the horses.
The gray mare had retreated.
Hannah understood.
“You caught her before.”
Wade said nothing.
“You tried to catch them again.”
Sarah raised a hand.
“Hannah.”
She stopped.
Sarah looked at Wade.
“You’ll need to answer questions about the diversion separately.”
Wade climbed into his truck.
Before leaving he said:
“Those animals are worth money. Don’t fool yourselves into thinking this is some happy reunion.”
Clay watched him go.
Then looked at Hannah.
“He’s right about one thing.”
She frowned.
“The horses are worth money.”
Her face hardened.
“No.”
“I didn’t say sell them.”
“But you thought it.”
Clay looked ashamed.
“Hannah, the bank deadline is four days.”
“I know.”
“We still need money.”
“I know.”
“Sable came home. We could still sell her.”
Hannah stared at him.
Clay raised both hands.
“I’m not saying we should.”
“Then don’t say it.”
He nodded.
That evening, another letter arrived from the bank.
Clay opened it at the kitchen table.
Hannah watched his face.
“Friday?”
He nodded.
“What happens Friday?”
“If I can’t make the minimum payment, they start the foreclosure process on the south forty.”
Hannah sat.
“How much?”
Clay told her.
It was less than Sable’s value.
More than they had.
Outside, eight horses grazed beneath the fading light.
Hannah hated herself for doing the arithmetic.
Sable alone could save the land.
The seven others might be worth far more.
But they did not belong to the Mercers.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
Then Sarah called.
Her voice was serious.
“We found something in Wade’s paperwork.”
Hannah gripped the phone.
“What?”
“The gray mare was never legally transferred to him.”
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“And?”
“And that creates a much bigger question about the rest of the herd.”
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