Mae found the false panel immediately.

Empty.

“No.”

She searched again.

Nothing.

Caleb cursed.

Then Mae remembered the brass key Beatrice had given her the morning she escaped.

Not one of the new keys.

The tiny old one.

Her eyes moved toward Gideon’s desk.

There were no small locks.

Then she noticed the portrait.

Gideon’s father.

Behind the frame was a narrow iron box.

The key fit.

Inside lay no ledger.

Only one document.

Mae unfolded it.

A territorial land patent.

She read the first line.

Her knees nearly buckled.

Caleb caught her.

“What?”

Mae handed him the paper.

The original owner of Larkin Spring was listed as

Eleanor Mae Larkin.

Mae’s grandmother.

Below it, handwritten into the legal transfer clause:

Upon my death, these water rights shall pass through the female line of the Larkin family and shall not become marital property.

Caleb looked at Mae.

Her lips parted.

“My mother.”

“She inherited it.”

“And when she died…”

“You inherited it.”

Mae stared at the document.

Every ranch.

Every field.

Every house in Mercy Bend depending on Larkin Spring—

Gideon had never owned the water.

Mae did.

A voice came from the doorway.

“That paper has caused more trouble than any scrap of parchment deserves.”

Owen.

He held a revolver.

Gideon stood beside him.

Sheriff Hollis behind them.

Mae’s blood turned cold.

Owen smiled.

“You should have kept running.”

Caleb moved in front of Mae.

Owen cocked the revolver.

“Don’t.”

Gideon entered.

For a seventy-year-old man, he still carried himself like somebody accustomed to rooms becoming silent when he entered.

“You’ve made quite a mess, Mae.”

She stared at him.

“You killed my grandfather.”

Gideon sighed.

“Your grandfather overturned a wagon.”

“My father?”

“Poor health.”

“My mother?”

Something passed through Gideon’s eyes.

Mae saw it.

And understood.

“No.”

Gideon smiled faintly.

Caleb stepped forward.

“You murdering—”

The revolver shifted toward him.

Owen said, “Careful.”

Caleb looked at Gideon.

“My sister.”

Gideon’s smile disappeared.

“Anna was troublesome.”

“Where is she?”

“Gone.”

Caleb lunged.

Mae grabbed him.

“Caleb!”

Owen laughed.

“She screamed your name once.”

Caleb stopped.

Mae felt the violence move through him.

She held on harder.

Owen stepped closer.

“She thought you’d come.”

Caleb’s face became terrifyingly calm.

Owen smiled.

“You didn’t.”

Caleb’s hand moved.

Mae whispered,

“Don’t give them another dead Rusk.”

Caleb froze.

Sheriff Hollis raised his gun.

Then a voice sounded behind him.

“She always was smarter than you boys.”

Hollis turned.

Beatrice stood in the doorway holding a shotgun.

Behind her stood Doctor Bell.

Mrs.

Talbot.

The schoolmistress.

Then another woman.

And another.

Half the women of Mercy Bend seemed to fill the hallway.

Gideon stared.

Beatrice aimed the shotgun at her husband.

“No more.”

Gideon laughed.

“You think a room full of frightened women changes anything?”

Beatrice’s hands stopped shaking.

“No.”

She glanced toward the window.

“But they might.”

Outside came hoofbeats.

Dozens.

Then the unmistakable rattle of a stagecoach.

Gideon’s face changed.

For the first time, Caleb saw fear.

By dawn, nearly the entire population of Mercy Bend stood inside or around the church.

The town had never held a proper courthouse, so territorial hearings were often conducted there.

Gideon sat beside Owen.

Sheriff Hollis had disappeared during the confusion at the ranch.

Caleb stood near Mae.

Beatrice sat alone.

Nobody spoke above a whisper.