Those words changed something inside her.

Mae looked at him.

Really looked.

Then she drove her heel down onto his foot.

Owen cursed.

Mae twisted free.

Tilda threw the lamp.

Darkness swallowed the room.

A gun fired.

Glass shattered.

Caleb tackled Owen.

When somebody finally lit a match, Owen and his men were gone.

Sheriff Crowder was bleeding but alive.

And Mae stood beside the window holding Owen’s revolver.

Her hand shook.

But she did not drop it.

Crowder finally talked.

Maybe shame loosened his tongue.

Maybe blood loss did.

Or perhaps he had simply spent too many years pretending cowardice was caution.

Silas Drayton had controlled four sheriffs before Crowder.

The system was simple.

Find vulnerable landowners.

Invent debts.

Buy judges.

Forge signatures.

If somebody resisted, accidents happened.

Crowder had looked away.

Doctor Bell falsified death reports.

Reverend Vale witnessed signatures that had never been made.

“And Owen?”

Caleb asked.

Crowder closed his eyes.

“Worse than his father.”

Mae said nothing.

Crowder looked at her.

“There’s one thing you don’t know.”

Mae’s voice was cold.

“I’ve heard that sentence enough.”

“The ledger.”

“What about it?”

“Silas moved it.”

“Where?”

Crowder hesitated.

“Family chapel.”

Mae knew the place.

A stone chapel stood behind the Drayton house.

Every Sunday Silas invited ranch hands to worship there.

Every Christmas he gave blankets to poor families beneath a stained-glass window of Christ washing a beggar’s feet.

Caleb almost laughed.

“Of course.”

By sunset, half of Mercy Bend knew something had happened.

By dusk, another rumor spread.

Silas Drayton was holding a public meeting at the chapel.

He intended to prove Mae was mentally unstable and accuse Caleb of kidnapping her.

Caleb told Mae they should leave for Fort Benton.

Mae refused.

“Running brought me to you.”

She loaded Owen’s revolver.

“But I’m done running.”

The Drayton chapel was full.

Ranchers.

Storekeepers.

Church women.

Cowhands.

Every person who had spent years whispering about things they did not dare say aloud.

Silas stood at the front.

Owen beside him.

Eleanor Drayton sat in the first pew dressed entirely in black.

When Mae entered beside Caleb, murmurs rolled through the room.

Silas raised one hand.

“My daughter-in-law has endured a terrible illness.”

Mae laughed.

Silas stopped.

It was not the laugh of the frightened woman Caleb had found beneath the boulder.

It was sharp.

Alive.

Almost fearless.

“You burned my father alive.”

The room erupted.

Silas’s face hardened.

“Enough.”

“You stole his land.”

“Enough!”

“You forged his signature.”

Silas stepped down.

Owen reached for Mae.

Caleb moved.

Mae lifted the revolver.

“Touch me again.”

Owen froze.

The chapel became silent.

Mae pulled the folded ledger page from her dress.

“These are names.”

She began reading them.