Sheriff Bell stood at the cellar entrance with a revolver aimed at Jacob’s chest.
Morning sunlight framed him from behind.
For years Amos Bell had cultivated the appearance of exhaustion.
He wore his hat too low, complained about his back, and spoke as if every dispute in Dry Mesa personally inconvenienced him.
Jacob had mistaken weariness for harmlessness.
Now the sheriff’s posture was straight.
His hand did not shake.
“Put the book down.”
Jacob glanced at the ledger.
“Creed send you?”
Bell descended one step.
“He didn’t need to.”
“So you’re protecting yourself.”
Bell’s mouth tightened.
“You don’t understand what this town was like fifteen years ago.”
“Poor excuse already.”
“We were broke.”
“Better.”
Bell ignored the sarcasm.
“Drought killed cattle. The railroad bypassed us. Families were leaving.”
“And Creed saved everybody?”
“He brought money.”
“By stealing ranches.”
“At first, no.”
Jacob believed that.
Corruption rarely announced itself on the first day.
Bell continued.
“Silas financed wells. Freight lines. Businesses. Half this town exists because of him.”
“And the other half?”
The sheriff’s eyes flickered toward the ledger.
Jacob understood.
“Buried?”
Bell swallowed.
“You think I wanted any of this?”
“I think you kept cashing payments.”
Bell lifted the gun.
“Give me the book.”
Jacob closed it.
“What happens after?”
“You go home.”
Jacob laughed.
“Try again.”
“Creed doesn’t want you dead.”
“He sent Tully shooting through town.”
“Tully panicked.”
“That supposed to improve things?”
Bell’s expression hardened.
“You’ve always thought you were better than people.”
Jacob frowned.
“That’s new.”
“You Mercer men had land when others didn’t. Water when others didn’t. Your father could afford principles.”
Jacob stood slowly.
“My father had plenty of faults.”
“One of them was judging everybody else.”
“No.”
Jacob looked directly at Bell.
“One of them was looking away.”
The sheriff’s jaw tightened.
Jacob continued.
“I inherited that mistake once. I’m not keeping it.”
Bell stepped down.
“Book.”
Jacob held it out.
Bell reached.
Jacob threw it sideways.
The ledger struck the wall.
Bell’s eyes followed it.
Jacob lunged.
He caught the sheriff’s wrist.
The revolver fired.
The shot exploded inside the cellar.
Bell slammed Jacob against the stone wall.
Jacob drove a knee into his stomach.
Bell staggered.
Jacob twisted the gun away.
A figure appeared at the entrance.
Deputy Cole.
“Sheriff!”
Bell froze.
Cole aimed a rifle one-handed.
His injured arm was still bound against his chest.
Bell stared.
“Travis.”
“Step away from him.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I finally do.”
Bell looked from Cole to Jacob.
“You think Creed will let either of you live?”
Cole replied, “Maybe we stop asking permission.”
Jacob retrieved the ledger.
Bell gave a bitter laugh.
“There are more names than you think.”
“We’ll read them all,” Jacob said.
He marched the sheriff outside.
Cole had brought rope.
They tied Bell’s hands to the saddle horn.
Jacob looked impressed.
“You planned ahead.”
Cole shrugged.
“Abigail.”
“That explains it.”
They took Bell to the Mercer ranch rather than town.
Putting a corrupt sheriff inside his own jail seemed unwise.
Abigail opened the door, saw Bell tied to a horse, and sighed.
“Your collection continues.”
Bell glared.
“You find this funny?”
“No,” Abigail said. “But I find you disappointing.”
They locked him in the smokehouse.
Then Jacob, Cole, and Abigail examined Samuel Harper’s ledger.
The entries covered eleven years.
Silas Creed had begun as a legitimate businessman.
Then drought came.
Ranchers borrowed money.
Creed began altering terms after signatures were obtained.
When owners protested, livestock disappeared.
Barns burned.
Witnesses vanished.
Samuel Harper discovered the scheme because Creed’s bookkeeper accidentally sent him an original note rather than the altered copy.
Samuel began investigating.
He recorded everything.
Then came the final entry in his handwriting.
SILAS KNOWS.
Below it:
If anything happens to me, Eliza must find Nathan Vale.
Jacob looked at Cole.
“Eliza said Vale found her.”
Cole nodded.
“Former bookkeeper.”
“Where is he?”
“No idea.”
Bell’s voice came through the smokehouse wall.
“Dead.”
Jacob walked outside.
Bell stood behind the small barred window.
“How?”
“Creed’s men caught him six days ago.”
“Eliza?”
Bell hesitated.
Jacob stepped closer.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I don’t!”
Bell’s voice cracked.
“I helped her.”
Jacob stared.
“What?”
Bell pressed his forehead against the bars.
“When she came to town, she showed me copies of the papers.”
“You sold her out.”
“Not immediately.”
Jacob nearly struck the wall.
Bell continued quickly.
“I told her to leave. I warned her Creed knew she was here.”
“And then?”
“He found out I’d spoken to her.”
“So you gave him what?”
“Her route.”
Jacob closed his eyes.
Bell’s shame finally looked real.
“She was taking the San Marcos road. Clara was with her. The baby too.”
“Who attacked them?”
“Tully and Driscoll.”
“Where?”
“North prairie.”
Jacob looked toward the land where he had found the mare.
“What happened?”
“I only know they lost her.”
“Lost who?”
“Eliza.”
Jacob’s pulse jumped.
“She escaped?”
“According to Tully.”
“What about Clara?”
Bell looked away.
“Creed has the girl.”
Jacob gripped the window bars.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Silas stopped telling me things years ago.”
“Convenient.”
Bell’s face twisted.
“You want the truth? I’m terrified of him.”
Jacob spoke quietly.
“So was Samuel Harper.”
Bell looked at him.
“Difference is, Samuel still fought.”
Inside the house, Rose began crying.
Jacob turned immediately.
Abigail was already heading inside.
Bell heard the baby.
His expression changed.
“Creed saw her?”
“Yesterday.”
Bell went pale.
“What?”
“Why?”
Bell pressed close to the bars.
“That baby cannot stay here.”
Jacob’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because of her eyes.”
“What about them?”
Bell swallowed.
“Silas has a son.”
Jacob knew.
Daniel Creed.
Thirty years old.
Educated in St. Louis.
Rarely seen in Dry Mesa.
“What does Daniel have to do with Rose?”
Bell’s silence answered before his words.
“Eliza and Daniel knew each other.”
Jacob stared.
“How well?”
“Well enough that Clara is his daughter.”
Jacob stepped back.
Bell continued.
“Silas found out years ago. He sent Daniel east. Eliza was already gone.”
“And Rose?”
“Also Daniel’s.”
Jacob felt the pieces shifting.
Creed’s reaction upon seeing the baby.
Not mere recognition.
Blood.
His granddaughter.
“Does Daniel know?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Where is he?”
“On his way back.”
“Why?”
“Silas summoned him last week.”
Jacob’s mind raced.
If Eliza had two children by Silas Creed’s son, then the Harper story was not simply about stolen land anymore.
It had become family.
Property.
Legacy.
And perhaps the one thing men like Silas feared more than prison.
Scandal.
Abigail emerged carrying Rose.
“She won’t settle.”
Jacob took the baby.
Rose immediately quieted.
Bell watched.
“That child is the reason Silas won’t stop.”
Jacob looked down at her.
“Then Silas is going to be very disappointed.”
At noon a rider approached.
Jacob and Cole took positions behind the porch.
The rider raised both hands.
“Mercer!”
Young voice.
Jacob stepped out.
A teenage boy sat on a mule.
Jacob recognized him as Henry Moss, Abigail’s grand-nephew.
He carried a folded newspaper.
“What is it?”
Henry dismounted.
“Mrs. Moss sent me to town for flour yesterday.”
Abigail stepped out.
“And?”
Henry handed Jacob the paper.
“Something happened at the hotel.”
The front page of the Dry Mesa Gazette carried a hastily printed notice.
WOMAN FOUND INJURED NEAR RED CREEK.
Unknown female. Approximately twenty-five years old. Found unconscious by shepherd.
Jacob’s heart hammered.
The newspaper described dark hair.
Travel dress.
Possible gunshot wound.
Taken to mission hospital in San Marcos.
Eliza.
Maybe.
He looked at Abigail.
“I’m going.”
Cole shook his head.
“Could be bait.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t.”
“If it’s her—”
“I said don’t go alone.”
Jacob looked at his injured arm.
“You’re staying.”
“No.”
“You got shot yesterday.”
“And I’m already irritated about it.”
Abigail interrupted.
“Both of you stop.”
They turned.
She pointed at Bell’s smokehouse.
“We have a prisoner who knows enough to get us killed, documents Creed wants, a baby somebody may try to steal, a missing twelve-year-old girl, and possibly Eliza lying unconscious forty miles away.”
Nobody spoke.
Abigail nodded.
“Good. Now we’re thinking.”
She looked at Cole.
“You ride to Judge Matthis in San Marcos.”
Cole frowned.
“Federal judge?”
“He owes my late husband a favor.”
Jacob blinked.
“You never mentioned that.”
“You never asked.”
She continued.
“Take copies of the ledger. Not originals.”
Cole nodded.
“Why Matthis?”
“Because if Dry Mesa is rotten, you go around Dry Mesa.”
She turned to Jacob.
“You ride to the mission hospital.”
“And you?”
“I keep Rose.”
Jacob hesitated.
Abigail’s expression hardened.
“I raised three brothers, two sons, and you whenever your mother needed help. I can keep one baby alive.”
Jacob nodded.
“Fair.”
“And Sheriff Bell?”
Bell shouted from the smokehouse, “I can hear you!”
Abigail smiled.
“I know.”
Jacob rode for San Marcos.
Forty miles felt like four hundred.
Every mile gave him too much time to imagine arriving late.
Eliza dead.
Clara missing forever.
Rose growing up with questions nobody could answer.
Near sunset, he reached the mission hospital.
A nun led him down a narrow hall.
“She woke briefly this afternoon.”
“Did she speak?”
“One word.”
“What?”
“Rose.”
Jacob closed his eyes.
“It’s her.”
The nun opened a door.
Eliza Harper lay in a small bed beside the window.
Eight years had changed her.
Her face was thinner.
A scar marked one temple.
Dark hair lay tangled across the pillow.
Bandages covered her shoulder.
But Jacob recognized her.
She opened her eyes.
For a moment she stared without understanding.
Then whispered, “Jacob?”
He stepped closer.
“Yes.”
“Rose?”
“Safe.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Clara?”
Jacob hesitated.
Eliza understood.
She tried to sit up.
Pain stopped her.
“No.”
“Creed has her.”
“No.”
“We’ll find her.”
Eliza gripped Jacob’s wrist with surprising strength.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then tell me.”
“He won’t kill Clara.”
Jacob waited.
“That’s good.”
“No.”
Eliza’s voice shook.
“He wants her to choose him.”
“Silas?”
“Her grandfather.”
Jacob pulled a chair closer.
“Why?”
“Because Daniel is coming home.”
The same thing Bell had said.
Eliza closed her eyes.
“Silas wants to erase what happened to my family. If Daniel accepts Clara as his daughter, Creed can pretend he rescued us.”
“After trying to kill you?”
“He’ll blame everything on Tully.”
Jacob believed it.
Men like Silas Creed rarely imagined themselves villains.
They imagined themselves architects.
Everyone else was material.
“What happened on the prairie?”
Eliza took a slow breath.
“Tully and Driscoll found us near north creek. I knew we couldn’t outrun them with Rose.”
“So you hid her.”
“Under the mare after she fell.”
“She was shot.”
Eliza nodded, tears sliding toward her ears.
“I thought the body would hide her from the sun and from them.”
“It did.”
“I heard Rose crying when I ran.”
Jacob felt the pain behind every word.
“But Clara was with me.”
“What happened?”
“Driscoll caught her.”
Eliza’s breath trembled.
“I went back.”
“Why didn’t they kill you?”
“Tully wanted the papers.”
“You’d hidden them already.”
“Yes.”
“And the key?”
“In the saddle blanket.”
Jacob nodded.
“I found it.”
Eliza stared.
“And Samuel’s ledger?”
Jacob hesitated.
She understood.
“You found that too.”
“Yes.”
A strange expression crossed her face.
Relief.
Grief.
Vindication.
“My father told the truth.”
“He did.”
Eliza began crying silently.
Jacob looked away to give her privacy.
After several moments she whispered, “Where is Rose?”
“My ranch.”
“Who’s with her?”
“Abigail Moss.”
Eliza almost smiled.
“I remember her.”
“She remembers everyone.”
“She scared me when I was little.”
“She scares me now.”
A weak laugh escaped Eliza.
It was the first hopeful sound Jacob had heard since finding Rose.
Then footsteps thundered down the hallway.
A man rushed in.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Expensive coat covered in road dust.
He stopped when he saw Eliza.
His face changed completely.
“Eliza.”
Jacob stood.
The newcomer looked at him.
“Who are you?”
“Jacob Mercer.”
The man swallowed.
“Daniel Creed.”
Eliza stared at him.
Not with love.
Not hatred.
Something more complicated.
A wound remembered.
Daniel stepped toward the bed.
“I came as soon as I heard.”
Eliza’s voice turned cold.
“Eight years late.”
Daniel stopped.
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew enough.”
“My father told me you left.”
“And you believed him.”
“I wrote to you.”
“I never received anything.”
Daniel looked shaken.
“I sent dozens of letters.”
Eliza laughed bitterly.
“I sent dozens too.”
Silence.
Jacob understood.
Silas had separated them by controlling communication.
Daniel looked at Eliza’s bandages.
“What happened?”
“Your father.”
Daniel flinched.
“No.”
“You still defending him?”
“I’m asking.”
“He stole our land. Imprisoned my father. Bought officials. Sent men after me.”
Daniel’s face went white.
“You have proof?”
Jacob answered.
“Yes.”
Daniel turned.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
Daniel stood silent.
Then he asked the question Jacob had expected.
“Clara?”
Eliza stared.
“You know about her?”
“My father told me yesterday.”
“And Rose?”
Daniel’s expression broke.
“There’s another child?”
Eliza closed her eyes.
Jacob saw the instant Daniel understood.
“My daughter?”
“Both of them.”
Daniel sat down heavily.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then whispered, “Where is Rose?”
“Safe,” Jacob replied.
“And Clara?”
“With your father.”
Daniel looked up sharply.
Jacob continued.
“If you want to help, you’ll prove which side you’re on.”
Daniel stood.
“What do you need?”
Before Jacob could answer, gunfire exploded outside.
A window shattered.
Jacob threw himself over Eliza’s bed.
The nun screamed.
Another shot tore into the wall.
Men shouted from the courtyard.
Daniel drew a pistol from beneath his coat.
Jacob stared.
Daniel said, “I traveled through Texas. I’m not helpless.”
They rushed to the window.
Two riders galloped from the hospital grounds.
Jacob recognized one.
Frank Driscoll.
The second wore a hat low over his face.
Daniel fired once.
The second rider fell.
Driscoll escaped.
Jacob ran outside.
The fallen attacker was still alive.
He dragged the man upright.
“Where’s Clara Harper?”
The man spat blood.
“Go to hell.”
Daniel approached.
The wounded man saw him.
His eyes widened.
“Mr. Creed.”
Daniel crouched.
“Where is my daughter?”
The man hesitated.
Daniel’s voice changed.
Cold.
“Where?”
“Old limestone quarry.”
Jacob exchanged a look with Daniel.
The man laughed weakly.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Why?”
“Silas moves her at dawn.”
“To where?”
The attacker coughed.
“Railroad.”
Jacob grabbed his coat.
“Where?”
“Mexico.”
Eliza’s scream came from the doorway.
“No!”
Jacob stood.
He had until dawn.
And for the first time since finding Rose beneath the dead mare, he knew exactly where the danger was waiting.