Eli fired once toward the ridge.

Not to hit.

To make a man duck.

“Move!”

They abandoned Gideon’s horse.

Gideon climbed behind Eli.

Nell rode ahead with Serina.

The original certificate remained inside the satchel.

The canyon opened toward a dry basin.

Beyond it lay the northern road.

Then two riders appeared ahead.

Eli’s heart sank.

They were trapped.

One rider removed his hat.

Harlan Voss.

He had ridden around them.

“Enough!” Voss called.

The pursuit stopped.

Dust floated between both groups.

Voss looked tired now.

No polished smile.

No pleasant businessman.

“Give me the satchel.”

Serina moved her horse backward.

“No.”

Voss drew a revolver.

Eli raised his.

So did Gideon.

Waya’s bow came up.

For several seconds the desert became utterly silent.

Then Voss pointed his gun at Nell.

Everything stopped.

Eli’s blood turned cold.

Voss spoke quietly.

“The satchel.”

Nell’s face went white.

Gideon made a sound Eli had never heard from another human being.

“Don’t.”

Voss kept the revolver steady.

“I don’t want to hurt the child.”

Waya’s arrow remained aimed directly at his chest.

“You will not have time to fire twice,” she said.

“I only require once.”

Chaska looked at Serina.

Serina slowly removed the satchel.

“No,” Eli said.

She ignored him.

She rode forward.

Voss smiled.

Then Serina threw the bag.

Not toward Voss.

Toward Nell.

The girl caught it instinctively.

“Nell!” Serina screamed.

Nell kicked her horse.

The animal bolted.

Voss turned his weapon.

Waya fired.

The arrow struck his gun hand.

Voss screamed.

The revolver fell.

Chaos exploded.

Eli drove forward.

Men shouted.

A shot tore through his coat.

Chaska rammed one rider with her horse.

Gideon nearly fell.

Waya had another arrow ready before the first stopped trembling.

And Nell—

Nine-year-old Nell Pratt rode like the devil himself had promised her a beating if he caught her.

She disappeared between the rocks.

Serina laughed.

“She really is faster than you.”

“This seems a poor time to mention it!”

Within minutes, Voss’s men broke.

They had expected frightened travelers.

Instead they had found something much more difficult.

People with something worth protecting.

Voss remained on his knees, gripping his bleeding hand.

Eli dismounted.

He wanted to hit him.

Wanted to break every bone in the hand that had aimed a gun at Nell.

Instead, he picked up Voss’s revolver and emptied the cartridges onto the ground.

“You’re finished.”

Voss laughed through clenched teeth.

“No.”

His face had gone strangely calm.

“You still don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

Voss looked at Gideon.

The old man’s expression changed.

Voss smiled.

“Ask him.”

Eli turned.

Gideon said nothing.

“Ask Gideon,” Voss repeated, “who Miriam Mercer really was.”

They reached the courthouse at sunset.

Nell was sitting on the steps with the satchel in her lap and two deputies beside her.

She saw them and ran toward Gideon.

The old man hugged her so hard her boots left the ground.

Judge Holloway accepted the probate certificate.

Deputies arrested Voss.

His wounded hand was wrapped.

He still smiled.

Eli hated that smile.

The hearing lasted until nearly midnight.

Documents were examined.

Signatures compared.

Witnesses questioned.

The truth became clear.

Voss had intentionally concealed Miriam’s will.

He had purchased other shareholders through shell companies.

And the contract Eli had nearly signed would indeed have transferred Miriam’s twenty-three percent interest to him.