“Thomas Callaway?”
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I pray it is.”
“My father died in a riding accident.”
“That’s what you were told.”
Ethan’s chest tightened.
His father had disappeared twenty years earlier when Ethan was eight.
The memory remained strange and incomplete: a horse returning without its rider, men searching through three days of rain, his mother standing at the window until dawn, Sheriff Arlen eventually declaring Thomas Callaway dead after finding blood on rocks near Miller’s Canyon.
No body had ever been recovered.
Ethan’s mother had told him his father’s horse must have slipped near the canyon.
Everyone had accepted it.
Eventually Ethan had, too.
“My father fell.”
Clara shook her head.
“Gideon says Daniel shot him.”
“Gideon says many things.”
“He has a sworn statement.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You saw it?”
“Only part of it.”
“How?”
Clara glanced toward the farmhouse again.
“Three nights ago, I heard Father and Gideon arguing in the study.”
Ethan said nothing.
“Gideon told him the debt would disappear if Father signed over the eastern water rights and gave his blessing for our marriage.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“And if he refused?”
“He said he would take the statement to Sheriff Pike.”
“Pike works for Rourke.”
“I know.”
“What exactly did the statement say?”
Clara closed her eyes, recalling it.
“Something about Miller’s Canyon. A gunshot. My father standing over Thomas Callaway.”
Ethan felt sick.
“He said there was blood on Father’s coat.”
Silence stretched between them.
Clara whispered, “Ethan, I wanted to tell you before you said anything to me.”
“Did Daniel admit it?”
“No.”
“Did he deny it?”
Her hesitation was worse than any answer.
“What did he say?”
“He told Gideon that some graves should stay closed.”
Ethan turned away.
He walked three steps, then stopped.
The creek kept moving.
How dare it?
How dare the water continue shining while everything Ethan had believed about his life cracked open beneath his feet?
Clara climbed carefully onto the bank.
“Ethan.”
He did not look at her.
“If he killed my father…”
“I know.”
“If Daniel Harmon killed him…”
“I know.”
Clara’s voice broke.
Ethan finally turned.
She stood barefoot in the grass, holding the wet shirt like a shield against her chest.
“Do you?”
The pain in his own voice surprised him.
“Do you know what you just told me?”
“Yes.”
“You told me your father might have murdered mine.”
“Yes.”
“And you tell me that after saying you’ve wanted me for two years?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“That is why I had to tell you now.”
He hated himself for the anger, but he could not stop it.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
“I only learned three nights ago.”
“And Rourke?”
“He is coming Sunday.”
“For what?”
“To announce our engagement.”
Ethan went completely still.
“That’s four days from now.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to marry him?”
“No.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
Clara looked toward the mountains.
“At dawn tomorrow, I am leaving.”
Ethan stared.
“For where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I get to decide whether I watch you ride alone into country you’ve never seen while Rourke sends men after you.”
“I cannot stay.”
“Then we find another way.”
“There may not be another way.”
“There is always another way.”
Clara gave him a sad smile.
“That sounds like something a man says when his land isn’t about to be taken and his father isn’t facing a hanging.”
Ethan opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
Clara stepped closer.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For telling you.”
“No.”
“For loving you.”
That stopped him.
Ethan’s anger collapsed beneath the words.
Clara turned away.
He caught her wrist.