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dry that he could remember, but there had been a couple of summers when it had slowed to little more than a trickle. It had always rained before the situation became dire, but someday the rain might not come in time. Rainfall wasn’t heavy in Colorado anyway; most of the water came from the snowcaps. Agood year depended more on the winter snows than the summer rains, and it hadn’t snowed much this past winter. A smart rancher always had more than one water source, just in case. Some streams would continue to run while others dried up.
    One of the things he’d argued about with Ellery was the need for another good water source, Angel Creek specifically. Angel Creek and the river on the Double C came from the same source, a larger stream that divided in two and flowed down opposite sides of the mountain. But at the point of division the bed of Angel Creek lay lower than the other riverbed. Thus what runoff there was from the mountain during the dry weather would flow into Angel Creek, leaving the other dry until the water level in the stream rose enough to overflow into the higher riverbed.
    Lucas had wanted to claim the narrow Angel Creek valley just for its water, but Ellery had refused, saying that the Double C had enough water to take care of its own, and anyway, Angel Creek was on the other side of the mountain with no good way to herd the cattle across it. They’d have to be moved
around
the mountain, and that was too much trouble. Besides, the valley was too small to support a large herd. Lucas had disagreed with his father’s reasoning.
    Angel Creek. Lucas narrowed his eyes, remembering how lush the valley was. Maybe it would be Cochran land after all.
    He sought out his foreman. “Toby, didn’t someone settle on Angel Creek some years back?”
    William Tobias, who had been ranch foreman as far back as Lucas could remember, grunted an affirmative.“Yep. Nester by the name of Swann.” A slight curl to his lip indicated how much he disliked even saying the word “nester.”
    Lucas grunted back, a scowl settling on his face. Like all cattlemen, he didn’t care for nesters or the fences they put up on what had been open range. But maybe the nester on Angel Creek would consider selling. From what he’d seen of nesters, though, they were as hardheaded as mules.
    Maybe this one would have more sense. It was worth a ride over to Angel Creek, at least, because he’d never know unless he asked.
    A man on horseback could pick his way through any of the narrow passes, though trying to move a herd over them would have been stupid. Lucas eyed the sun and calculated that he had plenty of time before nightfall to ride over there and back, so there wasn’t any point in waiting.
    He wasn’t optimistic about talking the nester into selling, and it put him in an irritable mood. If Ellery had listened to him, Angel Creek would already be his. Or he could have claimed it for his own before the settlers had started moving in if he hadn’t been too young and hotheaded to plan ahead. Looking back and realizing what he should have done was just a waste of time.
    The little homestead surprised him as he rode down the broad slope toward the farm buildings. There were only two cows and a bull, but they were fat and healthy. A lone horse in the corral looked sleek and well cared for, even if it wasn’t a prime specimen of horseflesh. Chickens pecked contentedly at the ground, scarcely paying him any attention when herode up and dismounted, tying the reins to a post while he looked around with interest. The small cabin, though roughly built, was neat and sturdy, as were the barn and fences. In the back was a plot for a large vegetable garden, the ground recently broken in preparation for spring planting, though it was still a bit early. He couldn’t see anything out of place or untended, and his slim hope that the nester would sell disappeared. If the place had been rundown