“Samuel Grady. Nathan Grady. Edwin Grady.”
Mary Ann whispered, “Stop.”
Crowe turned another page.
“Jonathan Grady.”
“Stop.”
“Deputy land agent for Horace Vane.”
Mary Ann lunged.
Gideon caught her before Pike raised the rifle.
Crowe smiled.
“Your maiden name was Grady, wasn’t it?”
Mary Ann’s whole body shook.
“My father died when I was twelve.”
“That’s what your mother told you.”
Crowe closed the ledger.
“Jonathan Grady did not die. He abandoned you and your mother when Vane sent him west.”
Mary Ann stared.
“No.”
“He became one of Vane’s most useful men.”
“No.”
“And seventeen years ago, he helped burn Nathaniel Whitcomb’s house.”
The cave seemed to vanish.
Mary Ann remembered Thomas’s face.
His gentleness.
His refusal to speak about his childhood.
The strange way he had reacted the first time Mary Ann told him her father’s name.
She had thought it sadness.
Now she understood.
Recognition.
“Thomas knew?”
Crowe’s expression changed.
“Yes.”
“Before he married me?”
“Yes.”
Mary Ann felt sick.
“Why?”
Crowe shrugged.
“Perhaps that’s the one thing I never understood.”
A new voice came from the entrance.
“I did.”
Everyone turned.
A man stood in the passage.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered despite his age.
Snow dusted a long black coat.
His gray hair was swept back from a scarred forehead.
Mary Ann stared at him.
Some faces disappear with childhood.
Others live in dreams.
She had not seen his face in twenty-three years.
But she knew him.
“Papa?”
Jonathan Grady looked at her.
“My little Annie.”
Mary Ann swayed.
Crowe looked annoyed.
“You’re late.”
“I had to make certain we weren’t followed.”
Mary Ann looked between them.
“You’re alive.”
Jonathan stepped closer.
She backed away.
Pain crossed his face.
“I wanted to come for you.”
“Twenty-three years.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Twenty-three years!”
Silas began crying.
Mary Ann lowered her voice.
“My mother died believing you were dead.”
Jonathan’s jaw tightened.
“That was safer.”
“For whom?”
His eyes moved to Crowe.
“For you.”
Crowe rolled his eyes.
“Spare us.”
Mary Ann stared at her father.
“Did you kill Nathaniel Whitcomb?”
Jonathan did not answer quickly enough.
Mary Ann felt something inside her break.
“Did you?”
“I was there.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I set the fire.”
Gideon lunged.
Pike struck him across the face with the rifle.
Mary Ann screamed.
Jonathan did not move.
“I was told the house was empty.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“I don’t expect you to believe anything.”
He looked toward the twins.
“Thomas learned who I was shortly after he married you.”
Mary Ann whispered, “And he stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Jonathan’s eyes filled.
“Because he loved you.”
Crowe made an impatient sound.
Jonathan ignored him.
“Thomas spent years trying to decide whether to tell you. He believed a man should not make a wife answer for her father’s sins.”
Mary Ann could barely stand.
“Did you kill Thomas?”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
“No.”
“Who did?”
He looked at Crowe.
This time Crowe’s smile vanished.
Jonathan said, “Elias.”
Crowe drew his revolver.
The cave exploded into movement.
Gideon threw himself into Pike.
Mary Ann shoved the twins behind an oak barrel.
Crowe fired.
The blast deafened them.
Jonathan staggered.
Blood appeared across his coat.
Mary Ann screamed.
Crowe turned the gun toward Gideon.
Mary Ann seized a burning iron from beside the stove and swung.
It struck Crowe across the wrist.
His revolver flew.
Gideon knocked Pike into the table.
The stranger grabbed Mary Ann from behind.
She drove her heel down on his foot and slammed her head backward into his nose.
He released her.
Silas screamed.
Samuel had crawled toward the fallen gun.
“No!”
Mary Ann dove.
A shot fired.
Stone splintered above them.
Jonathan, wounded, had picked up Crowe’s revolver.
Crowe froze.
Jonathan’s hand shook.
“Enough.”
Crowe wiped blood from his mouth.
“You weak old fool.”
Jonathan aimed at him.
“Thomas was better than any of us.”
“You betrayed Vane for him.”
