“One,” Jacob said. “Spencer.”
He copied the full decoded message onto a scrap of butcher paper, his hands shaking: TEONNA RAINWATER TAKEN NORTH BY EVARIS. STOP. HE WEARS THE BLUE AND GOLD. STOP. THE RANCH IS NOT THE TARGET. STOP. THE SOURCE IS. Before he could reach for his coffee, the door splintered inward.
“You’re the Dutton,” she said, not a question. 1923 Season 1 - Threesixtyp
Spencer Dutton rode into Bozeman in the black heart of a November blizzard. His horse was half-dead; his hands were frozen to the reins. He wasn’t looking for Evaris. He was looking for a telegraph operator named Pendergast, who, according to a cryptic message from Jacob, “knew the combination to the lock.”
Evaris sighed. “Pity.”
“You swallowed the message,” Evaris said. “Admirable. Foolish, but admirable. Do you know what the Threesixtyp actually decodes? Not just telegraphs. Bloodlines. The US government has been mapping indigenous burial sites, sacred springs, and ancient ley lines for twenty years. The ‘source’ beneath the Yellowstone is the largest untapped oil reserve on the continent. But it’s also something else. A spiritual anchor. The Rainwaters know it. The Duttons sit on it. And I’ve been paid by men in Washington and London to erase both.”
The Threesixtyp’s final gear keeps spinning. “One,” Jacob said
“Six,” she said, not looking up. “How many do we need?”