Page 30 of His Texas Claim

We stayed crouched and still, water cold around our ankles, and I finally heard the voices clear enough to make out words.

“...gotta be around here somewhere,” a man was saying. “Survey said the flow’s strongest right along this ridge.”

“You sure this is even worth our time?” A younger voice.

“You want that land or not?” the first voice asked.

My eyes darted to Stetson. “Is that…”

“My dad,” he said. “And Cooper.”

Boots crunched against gravel just outside the fern curtain. I held my breath.

“Cave’s gotta be right along here,” Arlo said, his voice a little louder.

“Don’t see no cave,” Cooper said, sounding very bored. “Just brush.”

“Keep lookin’.”

“Lookin’ where? The whole ridge is the same damn rock.”

A pause—then Arlo again, further off now, moving along the wall. “If there’s a cave feedin’ this spring, somebody’s gonna find it eventually. Rather it’s us than some conservation lawyer.”

“Or a frog lady,” I muttered.

Stetson squeezed my arm, hushing me.

“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with this,” Cooper said, so close to the entrance that he actually cast a shadow across the water. He moved away a touch, and I exhaled. “This land, the damn creek…plenty of opportunities to make money elsewhere. Could go out to El Paso, work the fields out there instead of dickin’ around in the Hill Country tryin’ to steal from your own kids⁠—”

A snarl. Water splashing. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

Cooper laughed under his breath. “You know what…fuck you, Arlo⁠—”

A thud against the rock, a splash, Cooper’s shadow again, lower this time.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” Arlo snarled. “Not you, not any of you boys. I built somethin’ out here before any of you were even born.”

Cooper barked out another, meaner laugh. “You mean three prison sentences—shit⁠—”

He was gasping now, Arlo right up with him, the two of them blocking the light completely. “My daddy’s daddy worked this ground,” Arlo snapped. “I don’t care what Adam’s done with it since, it’s mine by blood, and blood’s the only thing that ever mattered out here.”

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Then another splash; Cooper was on the ground again.

“There ain’t no cave here,” Cooper finally said, his voice flat. “Just brush and rock. Wastin’ daylight.”

"Survey said⁠—"

"Survey said strongest flow's along the ridge. Don't mean cave." A pause. "East side's got better ground for drilling anyway."

Arlo didn't answer right away. Then, grudging: "Fine. East ridge."

Boots crunched away through brush. A truck door slammed. An engine turned over, faded, gone.

Beside me, Stetson hadn't moved. His jaw was tight enough in the dim light that I could see the muscle standing out even in shadow.

“We need to get out of here before they find it,” he said. “Maybe cover the entrance with some brush.”

I had no idea what to say. “Stetson…I’m so sorry⁠—”