“You’ve got three days,” Royce said. “I’ll be staying at the inn. Room two, upstairs. You come find me.”
He turned, tipped his hat, and walked off like he’d just asked Caleb to buy a newspaper. Caleb stood there long after he was gone. His hands shook just slightly. Not from fear, but from the familiar sick sense of something slipping out of his control. He looked at the post office behind him. The letter was already sent. But now the storm had arrived first.
Back at the ranch, Abby felt the shift before she saw it. Caleb walked into the yard just before noon, a little slower than usual. Like he was carrying something inside him he didn’t want to spill. She met him at the porch, wiping flour off her hands.
“You’re late,” she said, teasing, but the smile faded when she saw his face. “What happened?”
He set the satchel down carefully. “We’ve got a visitor. From Missouri.”
Abby’s shoulders stiffened. “Who?”
“A private detective. Royce Keller. Hired by Doyle’s family.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t flinch. “What does he want?”
“For me to come back. Stand before a board. Maybe face charges. Maybe not.”
She nodded once, slow. “What did you say?”
“I said I needed time.”
She stepped down to him. “And what do you want?”
He looked at her, all defenses dropped. “I want to stay. But I don’t want to bring trouble to your door.”
Abby’s voice was soft but firm. “You didn’t bring it. It followed you.”
Caleb dropped his gaze. “I don’t want Luke and Levi growing up with a father who’s always looking over his shoulder.”
“You think they won’t see what kind of man you are if you leave?”
He didn’t answer. She reached out and took his hand.
“You can’t outrun the law, Caleb, but maybe we can outlast it.”
He blinked. “You’d really stand with me?”
“I already am.”
She led him inside. The boys were napping again, the smell of bread rising in the oven. Caleb sat at the table while Abby poured water and sliced cheese.
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
“First we wait. Let him sweat a little. Let him see we’re not scared.”
“I am scared,” he admitted.
“Me too,” she said. “But fear ain’t a stop sign. It’s a warning. You pay attention, but you keep walking.”
They made a plan. That night Ethel came by after supper. Abby told her everything. The older woman sat silent for a long time.
“Well,” she finally said, “I can stir the waters a bit. Let the judge know that Detective’s presence is raising questions about interference. Might not stop him, but it’ll slow him.”
“Can you really do that?” Caleb asked.
“I know people,” Ethel said, “and some of them owe me favors.”
She left with a basket of bread and the fire of war behind her spectacles.
The next morning, Abby rode into town alone. Caleb didn’t want her to, but she insisted. At the general store, she bought oats, dried apples, two bolts of flannel, and a bottle of ink. Then she walked across the street and entered the inn. Upstairs, room two. She knocked.
Royce answered in his undershirt, suspenders hanging loose. “Miss Monroe,” he said, amused. “Didn’t expect you.”
“I’m here for Caleb.”
“He send you?”
“No. I sent myself.”
He stepped aside. She didn’t enter.
“Let me ask you something, Detective,” she said. “What do you think your client really wants? Justice?”
“No,” Abby said. “They want revenge and they want silence. They want the one man who stood up to Merritt Doyle buried deep enough no one remembers.”
Royce’s face hardened slightly. “Walker doesn’t deny the altercation.”
“Because he’s not a liar. But he’s not a murderer either.”
Royce leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve known him how long?”
“Long enough to know the truth when I see it.”
Royce smirked. “This place. It’s full of hard land and soft hearts. Makes people foolish.”
Abby’s jaw clenched. “Then maybe you’ve stayed too long already.”
He watched her go, but he didn’t stop her.
That night, Caleb found Abby outside, arms wrapped tight around herself.
“You were gone a long time,” he said.
“I went to see him.”
His face tensed. “Abby.”
“I needed to see him for myself. Hear how he talks. What he wants. And he’s not here for justice, Caleb. He’s here for a bounty.”
Caleb went still. “There’s a bounty?”
“Not official. But it’s there. A quiet one. Doyle’s brother wants you back—alive or ruined.”
Caleb stared out into the dark. “I don’t know how to fight something like that.”
“You don’t fight it alone,” she said. “You never did.”
He turned to her.
She stepped closer. “You stay. We prepare. You’ve got legal footing now. I’ve got ties in town. We dig in. And if that’s not enough, then we go. Together.”
His voice cracked. “You’d leave your land if it meant saving the people who’ve made it home?”
“Yes.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t deserve you.”
“No,” she whispered. “But you do belong here.”
They stood there as the wind picked up, rattling the barn door in the distance. Tomorrow, Royce would start sniffing louder. But tonight, they had firelight. And each other.
The flames roared like an open mouth…
