The northern spring had given Manantial its name.
For generations, clear water had risen from limestone beneath a ridge and fed the river that crossed Arthur’s land.
Without it, cattle would suffer during summer.
Orchards would die.
Fields would become dust.
The deed Valeria had taken dated back decades.
Arthur spent two days reviewing maps with Sebastian.
Isabella sat with them.
At first Sebastian seemed surprised.
Then Arthur slid a document toward her.
“What do you see?”
Isabella examined the faded boundary description.
“Three cedar trees beside a stone well.”
“Yes.”
“What cedar trees?”
“Gone.”
“The well?”
“Collapsed twenty years ago.”
“So the boundary depends on landmarks that no longer exist.”
Sebastian nodded slowly.
“Exactly.”
Isabella looked at the second document.
“This survey mentions the chapel road.”
Arthur leaned forward.
She traced a line with her finger.
“If the old chapel still exists, wouldn’t its foundation help locate the road?”
Sebastian stared.
Arthur smiled.
“My wife reads.”
Sebastian ignored him.
“She is right.”
They rode north the next morning.
The abandoned chapel stood on a hill buried beneath vines.
Behind it they found stones from the original road.
Measurements supported Arthur’s claim.
But Valeria had moved faster.
Three days later a lawyer arrived.
He represented Esteban Rocha, a neighboring landowner notorious for buying troubled properties cheaply.
Rocha claimed ownership of the spring.
Arthur read the notice.
“On what basis?”
The lawyer produced a copy of an old deed.
Isabella’s stomach dropped.
Valeria had sold it.
Rocha planned to bring the dispute before the provincial court.
Until ownership was established, he demanded Manantial stop diverting water.
Arthur laughed without humor.
“Tell Rocha he can demand rain from heaven while he’s at it.”
The lawyer left.
That night Isabella found Arthur alone in the barn.
He leaned against a stall.
“You’re frightened,” she said.
“I’m angry.”
“Both can be true.”
He looked at her.
“Lucia used to say that.”
Isabella smiled slightly.
“She sounds intelligent.”
“She would have liked you.”
The statement surprised them both.
Arthur looked away.
“Is that strange to hear?”
“No.”
Isabella moved beside him.
“I’m glad you loved her.”
He turned.
“Why?”
“Because it tells me your heart knows how.”
Arthur touched her cheek.
“You never compete with a ghost, Isabella.”
“I know.”
“I need you to know.”
She covered his hand.
“I do.”
The court hearing was scheduled for six weeks later.
Rocha expected Arthur to negotiate.
Arthur refused.
Meanwhile, Valeria returned to the valley wearing expensive clothes and staying at Rocha’s estate.
News spread immediately.
Beatrice claimed her daughter had made “a brilliant business arrangement.”
Ambrosio disagreed.
He came to Manantial carrying a wooden box.
Isabella met him in the study.
“I found this beneath Beatrice’s bed.”
Inside were old letters.
Receipts.
One bore Leonardo’s family seal.
Isabella stopped breathing.
“Is this…”
Ambrosio nodded.
“I thought she burned everything.”
The letter confirmed what Ambrosio had confessed.
Leonardo had suffered a severe childhood infection. A physician had warned it could have affected his fertility.
No one had ever investigated further.
Isabella sat down.
Arthur read the letter.
His expression darkened.
“Why did Beatrice keep it?”
Ambrosio looked ashamed.
“Leverage, perhaps.”
There were also letters between Beatrice and Esteban Rocha.
Their connection went back years.
Rocha had been encouraging Ambrosio to sell portions of his land.
Beatrice apparently hoped Valeria might eventually marry him.
Isabella looked at her father.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
For once, she believed him.
Sebastian entered with another discovery.
The stolen boundary deed was not the final legal document.
An official resurvey had occurred eighteen years later.
A copy should exist in the provincial archives.
Arthur immediately prepared to travel.
Isabella went with him.
The journey lasted two days.
At the archive office, clerks searched until sunset.
Nothing.
The following morning, Isabella noticed a ledger listing documents damaged during a flood twelve years earlier.
The Manantial survey appeared among them.
“Destroyed,” the clerk said.
Arthur cursed under his breath.
Isabella kept reading.
Beside the entry was another notation.
Duplicate sent to parish authority.
“Arthur.”
He leaned over.
They returned to the old chapel.
Its parish had moved decades earlier to San Miguel.
The priest there led them into a dusty storage room.
Hours passed.
Then Isabella opened a leather case.
Inside lay a rolled map.
Arthur stared.
The survey clearly placed the spring inside Manantial.
Isabella laughed.
Arthur swept her off her feet.
She gasped.
“Arthur!”
“You found it.”
“Put me down.”
“No.”
The old priest smiled from the doorway.
“Young marriages.”
Isabella buried her face in Arthur’s shoulder.
For a moment the dispute seemed finished.
They were wrong.
On their return to Manantial, Elvira came running from the house.
“Thank God.”
Arthur dismounted.
“What happened?”
“Isabella’s father.”
Isabella froze.
“What about him?”
“He was attacked.”
Ambrosio lay in a guest room, his head bandaged.
Someone had struck him outside his house after he confronted Beatrice about the letters.
He had managed to ride south before collapsing near Manantial’s gate.
Isabella sat beside him.
“Father.”
His eyes opened.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing and stay awake.”
He almost smiled.
“Bossy.”
“You deserve it.”
Dr. Ortega believed he would recover.
Later, Ambrosio revealed what happened.
Beatrice had discovered the missing box.
They argued.
She admitted helping Valeria steal the deed.
When Ambrosio threatened to go to the authorities, a man employed by Rocha attacked him.
Arthur’s anger became ice.
This was no longer a property dispute.
The sheriff was notified.
Rocha denied involvement.
Valeria denied everything.
Beatrice disappeared.
Then, during the confusion, Isabella began feeling unwell.
At first she blamed exhaustion.
Then came nausea.
Sensitivity to smells.
A strange heaviness.
One morning Elvira watched her push coffee away.
“You love coffee.”
“Not today.”
Elvira’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
Elvira sat opposite her.
“When was your last monthly cycle?”
Isabella went still.
She counted backward.
Then counted again.
Her hands began shaking.
“No.”
Elvira smiled.
“Perhaps.”
“Don’t.”
“My dear—”
“Don’t give me hope.”
Elvira’s smile softened.
“Then we will give you a doctor.”
Dr. Ortega arrived that afternoon.
Arthur paced outside the bedroom.
When the door opened, he stood so fast the chair fell backward.
The doctor looked amused.
“Come inside.”
Arthur entered.
Isabella sat by the window crying.
His face drained.
“What happened?”
She held out her hand.
He rushed to her.
“Are you ill?”
Dr. Ortega cleared his throat.
“No.”
Arthur looked between them.
Isabella could barely speak.
“I’m pregnant.”
Arthur did not move.
For one terrifying second Isabella thought he had not heard.
Then his knees seemed to weaken.
He sat beside her.
“Pregnant?”
Dr. Ortega nodded.
“Approximately seven weeks, based on her history.”
Arthur looked at Isabella.
“You’re certain?”
“As certain as medicine allows at this stage.”
Arthur’s eyes filled.
Isabella began crying harder.
“I thought…”
He pulled her against him.
“Do not say miracle because you think you needed this to be complete.”
She froze.
Arthur held her face between his hands.
“I loved you yesterday.”
A tear slid down his cheek.
“I would have loved you if this never happened.”
She smiled through tears.
“But it happened.”
Arthur laughed.
“Yes.”
Outside the room, Elvira openly sobbed.
Sebastian pretended there was dust in his eye.
Ambrosio whispered a prayer from his bed.
And for Isabella, the greatest part of the news was not that the valley had been proven wrong.
It was that Arthur had loved her before anyone knew they were wrong.
The baby did not create her value.
Love had taught her she possessed it already.
But their celebration would have to wait.
Because two days later, the court summoned Arthur and Isabella.
Esteban Rocha had challenged the newly discovered survey.
And Valeria had agreed to testify against her own stepsister.