They rode for Blackwood before sunrise.
Silas wanted Evelyn to remain behind.
She refused.
The argument lasted exactly three minutes.
Then she reminded him of the key.
“My choice.”
He muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I said you are the most stubborn woman in Wyoming.”
“I learned from the most stubborn man in the mountains.”
That ended the argument.
Silas rode with his wounded shoulder stiff beneath his coat. His damaged leg was secured in its brace, but Evelyn saw every time pain crossed his face.
She also saw something else.
As Blackwood came into view, Silas became quieter.
The town lay beneath a dirty morning haze.
Same church.
Same saloon.
Same courthouse.
Same narrow streets Silas had patrolled fourteen years earlier.
Only now every building seemed to belong to Galt somehow.
People noticed Silas immediately.
A butcher carrying a crate stopped walking.
Two ranch hands whispered.
An elderly woman standing outside the general store stared at Silas as though she had seen a ghost.
Then she said his name.
“Marshal Vance?”
Silas stopped.
Evelyn looked at him.
The woman approached slowly.
“Clara?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I knew you weren’t dead.”
“You were told I was?”
“Galt said you fled after stealing county money.”
Silas’s jaw tightened.
Evelyn suddenly understood another part of the punishment.
Galt had not merely tried to kill Silas.
He had stolen his name.
Clara reached for Silas’s hand.
“My husband believed you.”
“Samuel?”
“He died six years ago.”
Silas lowered his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“He always said you’d come back.”
Silas glanced toward Evelyn.
“I should have sooner.”
Clara squeezed his hand.
“Then make today count.”
They continued toward the saloon.
The doors opened before they reached them.
Sheriff Abel Norris stepped outside with two deputies.
His belly pressed against his vest. Sweat already darkened his collar.
“Silas Vance.”
“Norris.”
“You’re under arrest.”
Evelyn almost laughed.
“For what?”
The sheriff looked at her.
“Murder.”
“Whose?”
“One of the men you killed on the mountain.”
Silas’s voice remained calm.
“They attacked my cabin.”
“Your word.”
“And the bullet in my shoulder.”
“Could’ve put it there yourself.”
Silas looked at the deputies.
Neither met his eyes.
“Where’s Matthew Pike?”
Norris smiled.
“Don’t know.”
“You’re a poor liar.”
“And you’re a cripple with an outdated badge.”
Silas’s hand moved slightly.
Evelyn touched his arm.
Not to restrain him.
To remind him they had come for Matthew.
Norris noticed.
His smile widened.
“Miss Reed, Mr. Galt is willing to forget all this unpleasantness.”
“I doubt that.”
“He says you were confused when you left.”
“I was perfectly clear.”
“He’s prepared a new agreement.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“Tell Mr. Galt he can roll it tight enough to fit somewhere the judge won’t see.”
A man across the street choked back a laugh.
Norris turned red.
Silas’s mouth twitched.
“Careful,” Evelyn whispered.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Then Galt appeared.
He stepped from the saloon wearing a black coat and immaculate boots.
“Evelyn.”
“Where is Matthew?”
“Safe.”
“Show me.”
“In time.”
Galt looked at Silas.
“You should have stayed in your mountain grave.”
Silas dismounted.
It took effort.
The entire street watched him drag the damaged leg over the saddle, lower himself to the ground, and straighten.
Step.
Drag.
Step.
He stopped inches from Galt.
“Where’s Pike?”
Galt glanced around at the gathering crowd.
“You always did enjoy an audience.”
“No.”
Silas’s voice was quiet.
“You did.”
For the first time, Galt’s confidence flickered.
“You remember that night?” Silas asked.
“What night?”
“The river road.”
Galt smiled again.
“Old men remember all kinds of things.”
“You sent Mercer, Hall, Dooley, and my brother.”
People whispered.
Galt’s expression changed.
“Careful.”
“You promised Caleb money for information. Then killed him because he knew too much.”
“Your brother was a thief.”
Silas moved so fast that Norris reached for his gun.
Evelyn did too.
Silas merely stepped closer.
“Say it again.”
Galt looked into his eyes.
Then deliberately smiled.
“Thief.”
A voice came from the crowd.
“He wasn’t.”
Everyone turned.
Clara stood outside the general store.
Galt’s face hardened.
Clara stepped into the road.
“I saw Caleb that night.”
Silas stared at her.
“What?”
Clara trembled.
But she continued.
“I never told you because Samuel made me swear not to. We had children. Galt threatened them.”
“What did you see?”
“Caleb came to our house after midnight. Bleeding.”
Silas looked stunned.
“He said Galt had attacked you.”
Clara wiped tears from her face.
“He was trying to reach Dr. Morgan.”
Silas’s breathing grew shallow.
“Then?”
“Galt’s men found him.”
The street went silent.
“They dragged him away.”
Silas closed his eyes.
Fourteen years.
For fourteen years he had wondered whether his brother betrayed him knowingly.
Now the answer stood in the middle of Blackwood.
Caleb had tried to save him.
Galt pointed toward Clara.
“That woman is confused.”
“No,” another voice said.
A gray-haired rancher stepped from the crowd.
“She isn’t.”
Then another man spoke.
“My farm was taken with one of Galt’s fake notes.”
A widow raised her voice.
“My husband never borrowed from him either.”
Galt’s confidence cracked.
Just a little.
But Evelyn saw it.
So did Silas.
Fear spread strangely.
Once one person stopped being afraid, others remembered they were angry.
Galt raised one hand.
Four armed men appeared on nearby porches.
The crowd retreated.
Fear returned.
“Enough,” Galt said.
He looked at Evelyn.
“You want Pike?”
“Yes.”
“Then come inside.”
“Both of us.”
“No.”
Silas shook his head.
“She doesn’t go anywhere alone.”
Galt laughed.
“Still pretending to be a lawman?”
Silas reached inside his coat.
Every gun in the street moved toward him.
Slowly, he removed the old marshal’s badge.
He pinned it to his vest.
Tarnished.
Scratched.
But visible.
“I never stopped knowing what the law was.”
Galt stared.
“A piece of tin won’t save you.”
“No.”
Silas glanced at the watching townspeople.
“But truth might.”
Galt’s face changed.
He knew.
“The ledgers,” he said quietly.
Silas said nothing.
“You brought them?”
“No.”
Galt’s jaw tightened.
Good.
Their bluff was working.
The originals were nowhere near town.
Galt motioned toward the saloon.
“Bring Pike.”
Two men dragged Matthew from the alley.
His lip was split.
One eye swollen.
But alive.
Evelyn started toward him.
A gun pressed against Matthew’s ribs.
She stopped.
Galt smiled.
“Where are my books?”
“Your books?” Evelyn asked.
“The records.”
“Why would an honest businessman be worried about records?”
Galt’s smile disappeared.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
Galt pulled his revolver.
He pointed it at Matthew.
Silas’s hand lowered toward his holster.
Six rifles immediately aimed at him from rooftops.
“Don’t,” Evelyn whispered.
Silas looked around.
Outnumbered.
Exposed.
Matthew shook his head.
“Don’t give him anything.”
Galt pressed the barrel closer.
“Last chance.”
Then a stranger spoke from behind the crowd.
“Actually, Mr. Galt, I believe it’s your last chance.”
Everyone turned.
A tall man in a dust-covered brown coat stood beside the livery stable.
He removed his hat.
Then opened his coat.
A federal badge gleamed against his vest.
“Deputy United States Marshal Aaron Hayes.”
Galt’s face went white.
Hayes was not alone.
Three more riders appeared at the northern end of the street.
Then two at the south.
Federal marshals.
Norris stepped backward.
Hayes noticed.
“Sheriff, I recommend keeping your hands visible.”
Norris immediately raised them.
Galt looked toward his rooftop gunmen.
Hayes followed his gaze.
“Those gentlemen may also reconsider whatever they were planning.”
One by one, rifles lowered.
Evelyn released a breath.
Silas did not.
He knew Galt too well.
Hayes approached.
“I received Miss Reed’s letter.”
Galt scoffed.
“A letter isn’t evidence.”
“No.”
Hayes looked at Silas.
“That’s why I’d like the ledgers.”
Silas remained silent.
Evelyn understood.
They had spent fourteen years surviving corruption.
A badge alone did not automatically make a man trustworthy.
Hayes noticed their hesitation.
Smart man.
He took a folded document from his coat.
“This warrant was signed in Cheyenne by a federal judge who has never taken a dollar from Josiah Galt.”
He handed it to Silas.
Silas read.
Then passed it to Evelyn.
Search warrants.
Arrest authority.
An investigation into land fraud, intimidation, bribery, obstruction, and conspiracy.
Silas looked at Hayes.
“When did you start investigating?”
“Six months ago.”
Evelyn blinked.
“Before my letter?”
“Your letter gave us what we were missing.”
“What?”
“A witness who knew where the original records were.”
Galt suddenly moved.
His revolver swung toward Hayes.
Silas reacted first.
He slammed Galt’s arm upward.
The shot exploded into the sky.
Chaos erupted.
Townspeople ran.
Federal marshals drew weapons.
Galt drove his shoulder into Silas.
Silas fell hard.
His injured leg twisted beneath him.
Evelyn heard him cry out.
Galt ran.
Not toward the saloon.
Toward the stable.
“He’s getting away!”
Evelyn raced after him.
“Evelyn!” Silas shouted.
But she kept going.
Galt mounted a black horse.
Evelyn reached the stable just as he kicked the animal into motion.
She grabbed the reins of another horse.
Hayes appeared behind her.
“Miss Reed, don’t—”
Too late.
Evelyn mounted.
She rode after the man who had murdered her father.
Behind her, Silas struggled to stand.
For fourteen years, he had waited to bring Josiah Galt to justice.
Now Galt was fleeing into the mountains.
And Evelyn was following him alone.
---