Something inside Caleb broke open.

He sank onto the ground.

“She lived?”

“Yes.”

He covered his face.

Aayita watched him silently.

When Caleb finally looked up, tears had frozen along his beard.

“I thought they all died.”

“No.”

“Vale told me the survivors were found.”

“He lied.”

Caleb laughed once.

A broken, terrible sound.

“Of course he did.”

Aayita pushed the ledger toward him.

“Read.”

Caleb opened it.

Pages of names.

Payments.

Land companies.

Military officers.

Merchants.

Scouts.

And there—

Caleb Morrison.

His own name.

Beside it was written:

Guide—$500 upon completion.

Caleb stared in horror.

“I never took this.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“Turn the page.”

He did.

A second entry appeared.

C.

Morrison—refused payment.

Threatened disclosure.

Arrest if located.

Below it:

Morrison believed dead at basin.

If found, silence permanently.

Caleb looked at Aayita.

“Vale has been hunting me.”

“Yes.”

“For three years.”

“Yes.”

“And the trap?”

Aayita’s expression changed.

“That was not for bears.”

Caleb had known.

Some part of him had known the instant he saw where it had been placed.

“Nantan was followed.”

“We found boot tracks this morning.”

Caleb stood.

“Vale knows I’m here.”

A rifle shot cracked outside.

Then another.

A horse screamed.

Someone shouted.

Aayita snatched the ledger.

Caleb drew his revolver.

The past had finally caught him.

Silas Vale rode into the camp beneath a white flag the following morning.

Twenty-two armed men followed him.

Vale looked older.

Thinner.

A scar crossed the right side of his neck where Caleb remembered blood pouring three years earlier.

But the gray eyes had not changed.

They found Caleb immediately.

“Morrison.”

Caleb stepped forward.

“Vale.”

The captain smiled.

“I heard a ghost had crawled out of the snow.”

Takakota stood beside Caleb.

“This is our land.”

Vale glanced at him.

“I’m not here for your land.”

Caleb almost laughed.

Vale continued.

“I’m here for a murderer.”

Men around the camp murmured.

Vale removed a folded warrant.

“Caleb Morrison is wanted for the murder of six soldiers at Tonto Basin and the theft of military property.”

Aayita appeared behind Takakota.

The ledger was hidden elsewhere.

Caleb said, “Interesting version.”

“The surviving witnesses agree.”

“The surviving witnesses work for you.”

Vale smiled.

“Then perhaps you should have left more of them alive.”

There it was.

The accusation Caleb had feared.

After the attack, he had fired on soldiers.

Not six.

Two.

Both had been preparing to shoot fleeing children.

Caleb had never regretted those shots.

But Vale had turned them into murder.

Vale looked toward the camp.

“Hand him over and we leave peacefully.”

Takakota answered.

“No.”

Vale sighed.

“I was hoping age had taught you wisdom.”

Takakota’s eyes hardened.

“Age taught me men who come carrying white flags often hide blood beneath them.”

Vale’s smile vanished.

Caleb saw the change.

He knew what came next.

“Down!”

Vale drew first.

Gunfire shattered the morning.

The camp erupted.

Caleb dragged Takakota behind a water barrel as bullets ripped through hide shelters.

Warriors fired from rocks and trees.

Women pulled children toward the ravine.

Aayita vanished into smoke.

Vale’s men had chosen their positions carefully.

Too carefully.

They were not there to arrest one man.