A dangerous one.
Nathan continued.
“Caleb believed exposing Victor through gunfire would only create another dead man. He wanted documents. Witnesses. Law.”
I looked at his revolver.
“And you?”
“I used to believe differently.”
“What changed?”
“Your husband.”
His voice became quiet.
“He told me destroying Victor wasn’t the same thing as defeating him.”
I stared at the blood soaking through the cloth.
“Nathan…”
“Yes?”
“If Victor killed Caleb—”
“He did.”
“You said you couldn’t prove it.”
“I said we couldn’t prove it.”
“That’s different.”
Nathan looked toward the church doors.
“I saw him do it.”
I could not speak.
The sounds of the town disappeared.
Nathan leaned back against the altar.
“Caleb asked me to meet him north of Copper Ridge the night he died. He had found the Mercer trust and your birth record.”
“Then why didn’t you stop Victor?”
“I was late.”
The same words.
The same guilt.
Again.
“I reached the ridge and heard gunfire.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“Victor and Lefty were already there. Caleb had been beaten. Victor demanded the papers. Caleb told him they were gone.”
My nails dug into my palms.
“What happened?”
“Caleb ran his wagon toward the ravine.”
“Why?”
“To pull Victor away from town.”
Nathan stared at the floor.
“Victor shot him from behind.”
My vision blurred.
“I fired at Victor. Missed.”
“Lefty?”
“He dragged Victor away.”
“And Caleb?”
Nathan’s voice cracked for the first time.
“I climbed down.”
I could barely breathe.
“Was he alive?”
“Yes.”
I covered my mouth.
Nathan continued.
“Barely.”
“What did he say?”
Nathan looked at me.
“He made me promise two things.”
“What?”
“To protect the evidence.”
“And?”
His face softened.
“To tell you he was sorry.”
I broke.
Six months of grief tore through me.
I sank onto the floor of the church and sobbed until my ribs hurt.
Nathan sat nearby.
He did not touch me.
He did not offer useless comfort.
He simply remained.
When I could finally breathe again, I said, “I want Victor to hang.”
Nathan looked at me.
“That’s not what Caleb wanted.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I want him dead.”
“You want him unable to hurt you again.”
“What’s the difference?”
“A grave ends one man.”
Nathan looked around the church at the piles of forged deeds.
“The truth ends everything he built.”
By evening, we had a plan.
Tomorrow morning the territorial judge was due in Copper Ridge.
Nathan had arranged it weeks earlier.
We needed Victor alive.
We needed the forged loan agreement.
And we needed him to reveal why he wanted my signature.
So I went to him.
Alone.
At least, Victor believed I was alone.
Caldwell House stood on the western hill overlooking the town.
It had twelve windows across the front, white columns, imported rugs, and enough silver on the dining table to feed half Copper Ridge for a year.
Victor received me in his study.
He smiled when I entered.
“Morgan.”
I wore Martha’s plain brown dress.
My hands shook.
I let him see that.
“My house is gone.”
“A tragedy.”
“You tried to kill me.”
He sighed.
“You’ve been spending too much time with my son.”
I froze.
“You knew I knew?”
“Of course.”
He poured whiskey.
