PART 2: The Secret Behind the Dying Cattle
The rider came galloping down the dusty slope, shouting Wade Callahan’s name.

It was Thomas Briggs, the neighboring rancher who had agreed to summon the veterinarian.

“Wade! Your north fence has been cut!”

Wade felt the blood drain from his face.

“Cut? By whom?”

“That’s what you need to find out.”

Behind them, Cora Jenkins stood beside the recovering cattle, her sleeves covered in dust.

With the veterinarian’s help, four animals were already standing. Two others remained weak but alive.

For the first time in months, Wade felt something dangerously close to hope.

But Cora’s expression remained serious.

“Show me where the fence was damaged,” she said.

They rode north beneath the burning afternoon sun.

Near the creek, Wade discovered several fence wires hanging loose.

Fresh wagon tracks crossed the dry earth.

And beside the damaged posts lay something that made Cora stop immediately.

A torn grain sack.

She lifted it carefully.

A black symbol had been stamped across the fabric.

Wade recognized it.

“That’s the mark of Silas Mercer.”

Thomas frowned.

“The banker?”

Wade nodded.

Mercer held the mortgage on Broken Spur. He had repeatedly offered to purchase the ranch for half its value.

When Wade refused, the bank’s warnings became increasingly threatening.

Cora examined the sack.

“Someone may have been feeding your cattle something they shouldn’t. We need to preserve this and have it examined.”

Wade’s jaw tightened.

“You’re saying Mercer has been poisoning my herd?”

“I’m saying we need evidence before accusing anyone.”

That evening, the veterinarian returned to examine the recovering animals and collect samples.

Cora insisted they check the remaining feed, water sources, and pasture.

Then she asked Wade a question.

“Why does Mercer want this land so badly?”

“Water rights, I suppose.”

“Your creek is nearly dry.”

“There’s an old underground spring my grandfather discovered. He never developed it.”

Cora slowly turned toward him.

“Does Mercer know about it?”

Wade hesitated.

“He’s the only other man who’s seen the original survey.”

Silence settled across the kitchen.

Outside, thunder rolled over the distant hills.

For years, Wade had believed Broken Spur was worthless without rain.

Now he wondered whether someone had been deliberately making it appear worthless.

Cora reached across the table and took his hand.

“You advertised for a wife because you thought you couldn’t save this place alone.”

Wade lowered his eyes.

“I didn’t have much to offer you.”

She smiled.

“You offered me a home. That’s worth fighting for.”

Then three heavy knocks struck the front door.

Wade opened it.

Silas Mercer stood beneath the porch lantern, holding a folded document.

“Evening, Callahan,” he said pleasantly.

“I’ve come to collect your ranch.”

But when Mercer noticed Cora standing behind Wade, his smile vanished.

He stared at her scarred jaw.

Then whispered something Wade never expected.

“Good Lord. You were supposed to be dead.”