Burnett’s eyes were cold despite his warm manner. The Whitfield farm is such a property, Mrs. Whitfield and I have been negotiating. That what you call it negotiating? Something flickered in Burnett’s expression.
I call it helping a widow in need. She’s alone sick with two small children. That farm is too much for her.
I’ve offered her a fair price. You’ve offered her robbery. The words hung in the frozen air.
Burnett’s smile finally died. I’d be careful, Mr. Mercer. Throwing accusations around a town where you don’t know anyone and no one knows you.
I know enough. Do you? Burnett stepped closer. You know that Clara Whitfield’s husband was a drunk and a thief, that he died because he was careless and corrupt, that the widow’s been barely scraping by, unable to pay her debts, unable to care for her children properly.
I know that every word you just said is a lie. Burnett’s eyes went flat. I’d be very careful about making enemies here, Mr. Mercer.
Very careful indeed. Eli stepped forward until he was close enough to see the pulse jumping in Burnett’s throat. I’ve been careful for three years, he said quietly.
Careful got my family killed. Careful kept me running while men like you destroyed innocent lives. I’m done being careful.
Burnett’s men shifted hands moving toward their weapons. Eli didn’t flinch. Call off your dogs, he said, unless you want them to learn what a Texas ranger does to men who threaten him.
The word ranger rippled through the group like a stone dropped in still water. Burnett’s face tightened. Your law? Was.
Now I’m just a man who doesn’t like bullies. Eli held Burnett’s gaze. You’ve got four days before New Year’s.
That’s four days for me to find enough evidence to hang you. I suggest you spend them getting your affairs in order. He walked past Burnett without waiting for a response, mounted hope, and rode out of town.
His back prickled the whole way, waiting for a bullet that didn’t come. But he knew it would. Eventually.
Men like Silas Burnett didn’t let challenges stand. Eli had just painted a target on his own back. Now he had to make sure it stayed there and away from Clara and her girls.
The real war was about to begin. Clara was sitting up when Eli returned. The medicine had already started working its small miracle.
Color had crept back into her cheeks, and her breathing came easier, without that terrible rattling that had kept him awake through the night. She watched him stomp snow from his boots, her eyes sharp and searching. You’re alive, she said.
Disappointed. Surprised. Clara accepted the medicine he handed her, turning the bottles over in her hands.
Word came while you were gone. Agnes Miller sent her boy with a message. What message? Burnett knows who you are.
A Texas Ranger who went mad after his family died. He’s telling everyone you’re dangerous. Unstable.
Clara paused. He says you burned down your own home with your wife and daughter inside. Eli felt the words like a knife between his ribs.
That’s a lie. I know it is. Clara’s voice was steady.
A man who burned his family wouldn’t cry in his sleep the way you did last night. Eli stiffened. You heard that? I hear everything in this house.
Walls are thin. She set the medicine bottles on the table beside her bed. You called out for someone named Hope.
You begged her to run. The cabin felt suddenly airless. I don’t want to talk about that.
Then we won’t. Clara pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. But you should know what you’re fighting.
Burnett doesn’t just destroy people. He destroys their names, their memories, everything they were. He did that to Thomas.
He’s doing it to me now. And he’ll do it to you if you stay. Eli moved to the fire and added another log more to give his hands something to do than because the flames needed tending.
Where are the girls? Barn. Lily decided your horse needed company. Clara almost smiled.
She’s named her Hope, apparently. Says you said it was after someone important. It was.
Your daughter. Eli didn’t answer. Clara let the silence stretch for a moment, then shifted direction with the practiced ease of a woman who understood when to push and when to retreat.
What did you learn in town? Burnett’s not just after your farm because Thomas knew about his crooked building contracts. Eli turned to face her. He’s after what’s under it.
Clara’s brow furrowed. What do you mean? Silver. Thomas found traces in your creek.
Filed a report with the territorial assayer. Eli paused. Three weeks before he died.
The color that had returned to Clara’s face drained away. Thomas never told me about silver. Probably trying to protect you.
If you didn’t know, you couldn’t be threatened for the information. Eli pulled Thomas’s journal from his coat. But he wrote about it in here.
Page 43. He knew exactly what your land was worth. And he knew Burnett would kill for it.
Clara’s hands trembled as she took the journal and found the page. Her eyes moved across her husband’s careful handwriting, and tears began to slide down her cheeks. He was going to surprise us, she whispered.
That’s what he said the week before he died. He said he had a surprise that would change everything. I thought he meant something he was building.
He was building something. A future. Burnett took it from him.
Clara pressed the journal against her chest, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Eli wanted to comfort her. Wanted to say something that would ease the fresh wound of learning exactly how calculated her husband’s murder had been.
But he’d never been good with words. Sarah used to tease him about it. Said he could face down armed criminals without flinching but couldn’t string together a decent compliment to save his life.
So he did what he knew how to do. I sent a telegram from town, he said. To a U.S. marshal I used to know in Helena.
Man named Dawkins. If he’s still alive and still wearing the badge he’ll come. Clara looked up hope and fear, warring in her expression.
How long? Three days, maybe four. New Year’s Eve is in three days. I know.
Burnett’s deadline. I know Clara. Eli’s voice came out harder than he intended.
I know the timing. I know what’s at stake. I know we’re racing against something that might be unwinnable.
But I don’t know how to do nothing. I tried that for three years and it nearly killed me. Clara stared at him for a long moment.
You really think we can beat him? I think we have to try. The cabin door burst open. Lily came running in, her face flushed with cold and something else.
Fear. Mama! Mama! There’s men coming! Eli was at the window before Lily finished speaking. Three riders approaching from the east moving fast despite the snow.
He couldn’t see their faces yet but he recognized the body language. Men with purpose. Men with violence on their minds.
Clara take the girls to the back, behind the flower barrel like I told Lily. Eli. Now.
Clara didn’t argue. She pulled herself from the bed with strength she probably didn’t know she still had, grabbed Rosie from where she’d been drawing by the fire, and shepherded both girls toward the back of the cabin. Eli checked his colt.
Six rounds. His rifle was by the door. Another eight rounds there.
Fourteen shots against three men. Better odds than he deserved. He opened the door and stepped onto the porch just as the riders pulled up at the fence line.
The man in front was big, broad-shouldered with a face that had been broken and badly reset at least once. The two behind him were younger, leaner, with the hungry look of men who’d learned that violence paid better than honest work. That’s far enough, Eli called out.
The big man grinned, showing tobacco-stained teeth. You mercer! Who’s asking? Name’s Cobb. I work for Mr. Burnett.
Cobb leaned forward in his saddle. Mr. Burnett says you need to leave, says the lady inside has business to conclude and you’re interfering with negotiations. Negotiations are over.
Mr. Burnett disagrees. Cobb’s grin widened. He also says if you don’t leave peaceful-like, we’re authorized to make you leave.
Eli’s hand rested on his holster, casual but ready. Three of you. One of me.
You like those odds. Like them fine. Then you don’t know what I used to do for a living.
Something flickered in Cobb’s expression. The story Burnett had spread was clearly incomplete. Mr. Burnett says you’re crazy, says you burned your own family.
Mr. Burnett’s a liar, but you probably knew that already working for him. Cobb’s jaw tightened. I don’t get paid to think.
I get paid to solve problems. Right now, you’re a problem. Then come solve me.
The words hung in the frozen air. The two younger men exchanged nervous glances. They hadn’t expected resistance.
Hadn’t expected a lone man to face down three armed riders without flinching. Cobb wasn’t nervous, but he was reassessing. You know what happens if you start shooting out here, Cobb said slowly.
Sheriff Colton comes to investigate, finds a dead drifter on a widow’s property. Maybe he finds other things too. Things that don’t look good for the lady or her girls.
Or maybe he finds three dead men who tried to force their way onto property where they weren’t wanted. You’d hang for that. Might be worth it.
Cobb studied him for a long moment. You really are crazy. I’m a father who lost his daughter.
That’s worse than crazy. That’s got nothing left to lose. Eli drew his pistol in one smooth motion, the barrel leveling at Cobb’s chest before any of the three could react…
