The woman who had known too much.
The woman who had protected her.
Caleb looked at Norah.
“We need to go back.”
Ruth was waiting when they returned.
She was sitting alone in the cookhouse.
On the table lay a revolver.
Norah stopped in the doorway.
“Ruth.”
The old woman looked up.
“You found it.”
Norah’s voice trembled.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“My father is alive?”
Ruth closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Norah’s knees nearly failed.
“Where?”
“Not far.”
“Where?”
Ruth stood.
“He’s been watching Dry Willow for twelve years.”
Caleb’s hand tightened around his pistol.
“Why didn’t he come back?”
“Because Mercer would have killed you.”
Norah’s voice broke.
“He let me believe he was dead?”
“He believed a dead father was safer than a hunted daughter.”
Norah shook her head.
“No.”
She stepped forward.
“No, that’s not protection.”
Ruth’s eyes filled with tears.
“I know.”
“You let me suffer.”
“Yes.”
“You let me be sold.”
Ruth flinched.
“I tried to stop it.”
“You failed.”
“Yes.”
Norah’s anger finally broke through years of grief.
“You failed me!”
Ruth cried.
“I know!”
Silence.
Then Ruth whispered:
“Your father never stopped looking for you.”
Norah stared at her.
“He was at the auction.”
Caleb turned sharply.
“What?”
Ruth nodded.
“He was there.”
Norah’s heart stopped.
“The man in the gray coat?”
“No.”
Ruth shook her head.
“The old man standing beside the feed wagon.”
Norah remembered.
A gray-haired stranger.
He had looked at her.
She had looked away.
“Where is he?”
Ruth pointed toward the barn.
Norah ran.
The barn door opened.
A man stood in the shadows.
Older.
Thinner.
His hair almost entirely white.
But his eyes—
Norah knew those eyes.
She had seen them in every childhood memory.
Her father.
Jonas Bell.
She stopped.
He whispered her name.
“Norah.”
She couldn’t move.
Then she crossed the barn in three steps.
Her fist struck his chest.
Once.
Twice.
Then she collapsed against him.
He held her.
She cried with a fury that seemed to come from twelve years underground.
“You let me think you were dead.”
“I know.”
“You let them sell me.”
“I know.”
“I hated you.”
“I know.”
She pulled away.
“Why?”
Jonas looked at Caleb.
Then at Ruth.
Then back at his daughter.
“Because Mercer wasn’t trying to take the water.”
Norah wiped her face.
“What?”
“He was trying to take you.”
She stared.
Jonas continued.
“The trust I created didn’t name Dry Willow’s residents individually.”
“Then who?”
He swallowed.
“It named the descendants of the original settlers.”
Norah frowned.
“That’s dozens of people.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“There’s only one surviving direct descendant.”
Norah’s face went pale.
“Me.”
Jonas nodded.
“The entire water reserve belongs legally to you.”
