Thomas shook his head.

“That makes no sense.”

“It wasn’t only about your ranch.”

Agnes looked at Norah.

“It was about hers.”

Norah stared.

“I don’t own land.”

“You do.”

Agnes reached beneath her shawl and removed an old document.

“Your husband, Samuel Whitfield, discovered something before he died.”

Norah’s throat tightened.

Samuel.

Her gentle, laughing Samuel.

Killed beneath a collapsed mine tunnel eight months earlier.

“He discovered that the north pasture of the Hayes ranch was never legally owned by the Hayes family,” Agnes said.

Thomas frowned.

“What?”

“It belonged to Norah’s grandfather.”

Norah stared.

Agnes unfolded the document.

“Underneath that pasture is one of the richest silver veins ever discovered in this county.”

Thomas slowly lowered his gun.

“Bell knew?”

“Yes.”

“And Samuel?”

“He discovered the original deed.”

Norah whispered, “Samuel died three days later.”

Agnes nodded.

Norah’s knees weakened.

Thomas caught her elbow.

“Bell killed him?”

“I cannot prove Bell ordered it,” Agnes said. “But Samuel’s death was no accident.”

Hope stirred.

Norah looked down at the baby.

Her baby.

Could it possibly be true?

Hope opened her eyes.

Dark brown.

Samuel’s eyes had been brown.

Norah began crying.

Not loudly.

Tears simply poured down her face.

She touched the baby’s cheek.

“My Grace?”

Agnes nodded.

“Grace never died.”

Norah pressed her forehead against the child’s.

“My baby.”

Thomas turned away.

His own grief was written across his back.

Because in giving Norah back her daughter, Agnes had taken his away.

The child he believed was his was dead.

Norah looked at him.

“Thomas…”

He raised a hand.

“I need a minute.”

Then a gunshot exploded outside.

The chapel window shattered.

Agnes screamed.

Thomas dragged Norah behind the stone altar.

Another shot struck the wall.

Bell’s voice came from outside.

“Give me the child!”

Thomas fired through the broken window.

Men scattered.

The sheriff shouted, “Hold your fire!”

Bell snapped, “Arrest him!”

Thomas yelled, “Sheriff! Ask Bell why he’s so desperate for the baby!”

“Don’t listen!”

Agnes stood.

“I have the ledgers!”

Everything went quiet.

Bell’s face appeared through the doorway.

For the first time, Norah saw fear in his eyes.

Agnes lifted a leather book.

“Every forged mortgage. Every stolen deed. Every payment.”

Bell raised his revolver.

Thomas fired first.

The bullet struck Bell’s hand.

His weapon spun away.

Sheriff Cooper stared at the preacher.

Then at Agnes.

“What ledger?”

Bell shouted, “She’s lying!”

“Then you won’t mind us reading it,” the sheriff said.

Bell ran.

He made it ten yards.

Then old Martha Greene stepped from behind a wagon and hit him across the knees with a shovel.

He collapsed face-first into the dirt.

Thomas stared.

“Martha?”

She shrugged.

“You people ride too fast.”

By morning, Willow Creek knew everything.

Or thought it did.

Bell was jailed.