“We don’t know that.”
Thomas’s voice broke.
“He threatened her.”
“We need proof.”
“I have enough proof.”
“To get yourself hanged after you shoot him?”
Thomas stared at her.
Mercy’s voice softened.
“Your sons already lost one parent.”
His shoulders sagged.
“They’re not losing another because anger feels easier than patience.”
For a moment neither moved.
Then Thomas placed the rifle against the wall.
“You sound like her.”
Mercy smiled sadly.
“I’m her sister.”
He looked at her for a long time.
“No.”
Mercy’s smile faded.
“You don’t.”
Something shifted between them.
Thomas stepped closer.
“You sound like Mercy.”
Her heart stumbled.
This was dangerous territory.
For weeks she had thought her growing tenderness for Thomas was complicated.
Now he was the widower of her sister.
Yet the truth made something clearer as well.
She was not Rebecca.
She could never replace Rebecca.
And Thomas was no longer asking her to.
“I don’t know what this makes us,” Mercy whispered.
Thomas lifted his hand, hesitated, then let it fall.
“Neither do I.”
From behind the pantry door came a whisper.
“It makes kissing complicated.”
Thomas jerked around.
The twins fled laughing.
Mercy laughed too.
Thomas’s face turned red.
It was the first time she had seen him embarrassed.
She liked it considerably.
Their plan was simple.
Too simple.
Thomas would ride to the territorial marshal two counties east with copies of the evidence.
Caleb would accompany him.
Mercy and the remaining boys would stay at the ranch.
Thomas objected.
Mercy won.
He left before dawn.
At noon, snow began.
At two, Mercy smelled smoke.
Her blood turned cold.
She ran outside.
The hay shed was burning.
“Nathan!” she shouted. “Pump!”
The boys scattered into action.
Flames climbed the dry boards.
Mercy organized a bucket line.
Then Will screamed.
“Eli!”
Mercy turned.
Eli was running toward the barn.
Not away.
Toward it.
“ELI!”
Smoke swallowed him.
Mercy dropped her bucket and ran.
She found him inside beneath the loft ladder, coughing violently.
In his hands was the rag doll.
“Mama!” he sobbed.
A burning beam crashed behind them.
Mercy grabbed him.
“No!”
He fought her.
“Mama’s in here!”
The words tore through her.
This was what had happened before.
He had returned to the place his mother died because some part of him still believed he had failed to save her.
Mercy seized his face in both hands.
“Eli! Look at me!”
His terrified eyes found hers.
“You did not leave your mother.”
He sobbed.
“You did not fail her.”
The roof groaned.
“You were six years old. It was never your job to save her.”
Something broke in his expression.
Mercy lifted him and ran.
They cleared the doors seconds before part of the loft collapsed.
Outside, Nathan dragged them into the snow.
Mercy rolled Eli beneath her body as sparks rained around them.
Then she heard hoofbeats.
A rider emerged through the snow.
Not Thomas.
Gideon Voss.
He carried a pistol.
The boys froze.
Voss dismounted.
Mercy rose slowly.
“You’re becoming inconvenient, Miss Calloway.”
Nathan stepped in front of her.
Voss pointed the pistol at him.
“Move.”
Mercy pulled Nathan back.
“You started this fire.”
Voss smiled.
“No one will prove that.”
“You killed Rebecca.”
His smile disappeared.
“She should have minded her household.”
Eli made a sound.
Voss glanced at him.
A mistake.
Mercy saw it.
Recognition.
Eli saw it too.
The child began shaking.
