Ada had not been waiting helplessly.
She had been building a case one flour sack at a time.
Silas raised his gun.
Eli saw it.
“Ada!”
The shot fired.
Ada fell.
Eli stopped hearing the world.
He crossed the room before Silas could fire again.
His fist struck Silas’s jaw.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Silas crashed through the office door.
Men rushed upstairs.
The marshal tackled Jonas.
Someone dragged Silas away.
Eli dropped beside Ada.
Blood covered the front of her dress.
“No.”
He pressed his hands against the wound.
“Ada.
Look at me.”
Her eyes opened.
“That hurts.”
A strangled laugh escaped him.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“If it hurts, you’re alive.”
She looked down.
The bullet had torn through the flesh beneath her shoulder.
Painful.
Bloody.
But not fatal.
Eli closed his eyes.
For the first time in years,
he thanked God for something without feeling foolish afterward.
Silas Crowe did not hang.
Not immediately.
The investigation uncovered more than anyone expected.
Robbery.
Forgery.
Bribery.
Three murders.
Possibly five.
Nathaniel Bell’s remains were identified.
The old sheriff resigned before he could be arrested.
Jonas Redd traded testimony for leniency.
The station remained closed for three weeks.
During those weeks, Ada slept more than she had in the previous three years.
Eli stayed.
At first he told himself it was because the bridge needed repairs.
Then because Ada’s shoulder needed dressing.
Then because Nathaniel deserved a proper burial.
Eventually he stopped inventing reasons.
One afternoon Ada found him repairing the porch.
“You know the road is open.”
“Yes.”
“Your horse is healthy.”
“Yes.”
“You told the marshal you planned to ride north.”
“I lie sometimes.”
She leaned against the doorway.
“Why are you still here?”
Eli looked at the hammer.
Then at her.
“I don’t know.”
Ada smiled.
“That’s a terrible answer.”
“It’s the only honest one.”
She sat beside him.
For several moments they watched sunlight move across the valley.
Crestfall looked different without Silas.
Or perhaps Eli did.
Ada’s arm remained in a sling.
Her hair was loose.
She wore a pale blue dress discovered in a trunk belonging to her mother.
“You asked Silas about Ruth,” she said.
Eli looked away.
“I did.”
“There’s something I need to give you.”
She stood.
“Come inside.”
They went to the kitchen.
Ada reached above the cupboard and removed an old flour tin.
Its paint had almost completely worn away.
She placed it on the table.
Eli stared.
“What is that?”
“Something I’ve guarded for thirteen years.”
His heartbeat slowed.
Ada opened the tin.
Inside was a bundle wrapped in cloth.
She pushed it toward him.
Eli unfolded it.
A letter lay inside.
On the front, written in faded ink, were two words.
For Elijah.
Eli stopped breathing.
He knew the handwriting.
His mother’s.
His knees weakened.
He sat.
Ada remained across from him.
“Why didn’t you give me this the first night?”
“Because I had to be certain.”
“You knew my name.”
“Yes.”
“From the guest ledger?”
“Yes.”
Eli stared at her.
“You knew who I was before you brought out supper.”
Ada nodded.
Something clicked inside his mind.
The biscuit.
The pepper.
His mother’s recipe.
He slowly looked up.
“You did it on purpose.”
Ada did not answer.
“You made those biscuits for me.”
