The cabin is not mine.

Neither are the barn, horses, pasture, north spring, or timber.

Your mother left enough money with a bank in Silver Junction to pay the property taxes for eighteen years.

I have lived there as caretaker.

Everything is yours.

If you want me gone, tell me once and I will leave.

And Josephine—

The preacher who married us yesterday was not legally authorized to perform marriages in this territory.

Your father knew.

I knew too.

That means

you are not my wife unless you choose to become my wife.

Your father believed he sold you.

I needed him to believe it long enough to get you out.

Forgive me if you can.

Harlan

I sat on the edge of my bed for a long time.

Then I began laughing.

Quietly at first.

Then through tears.

My father had sold me into a marriage that wasn’t a marriage.

To a man who lived in a house that wasn’t his.

On land Father thought he could steal.

And the supposedly brutal mountain savage had spent eleven years protecting property he could have taken for himself at any time.

I folded the documents.

Then I went downstairs.

Father sat at the dining table eating breakfast.

He glanced up.

“There you are.”

I smiled.

Something in my expression made him stop chewing.

“Josephine?”

“I’d like to go to the jail.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

“To tell Harlan goodbye.”

Father relaxed.

“Good girl.”

For once, I didn’t correct him.

Coldwater crowded into the street before noon.

Word had spread that Harlan Creek had murdered my mother.

People gathered outside the jail.

Some wanted a hanging.

Others simply wanted spectacle.

Father walked beside me with one hand gripping my arm.

When we entered the sheriff’s office, Harlan was behind iron bars.

His face changed when he saw me.

Then he noticed my expression.

I saw understanding flicker in his eyes.

Father released me.

“You have five minutes.”

I approached the bars.

“Harlan.”

“Josephine.”

I slipped one hand through the bars.

He looked at it.

Then at me.

Slowly, he took it.

Father made a disgusted sound.

I turned.

“Sheriff Cole?”

The sheriff looked up from his desk.

“Yes?”

“I found something.”

His face changed.

Only slightly.

But enough.

I pulled his confession from my sleeve.

The color drained from his face.

Father lunged.

Harlan moved faster.

His hand shot through the bars, seized Father’s coat, and slammed him against the iron.

I ran toward the front door.

“Deputy!”

Sheriff Cole shouted.

But half the town was already outside.

I stepped onto the porch.

“Everyone listen!”

The crowd quieted.

Father appeared behind me.

“She’s hysterical!”

I raised the document.

“

Twelve years ago Sheriff Cole helped my father find my mother after she attempted to report him for fraud and violence.

”

Murmurs spread.

Sheriff Cole emerged.

“That’s a lie.”

“Then you won’t mind if Reverend Thomas reads your signed confession.”

The elderly minister stood near the front of the crowd.

I handed him the page.

Cole’s expression collapsed.

Father pushed forward.

“You foolish girl!