She froze.
His grip immediately loosened.
“Don’t apologize for that.”
She looked up.
Whatever answer Ethan had been ready to give before her revelation now seemed impossibly distant.
Still, one truth remained.
“Don’t leave tonight.”
“I said dawn.”
“Don’t leave then either.”
“Ethan—”
“Give me one day.”
“For what?”
“To find out whether Gideon Rourke is lying.”
“And if he isn’t?”
Ethan looked toward Miller’s Canyon rising dark against the western hills.
His voice hardened.
“Then I’ll find out why Daniel Harmon killed my father.”
That night Ethan opened a trunk he had not touched in eleven years.
It sat beneath old blankets in the loft above his bedroom.
The hinges complained when he lifted the lid.
Inside were the remains of another life.
His mother’s shawl.
His father’s shaving razor.
A tin tobacco box.
Two faded photographs.
A worn leather Bible.
And Thomas Callaway’s journal.
Ethan carried it downstairs.
He sat at the kitchen table beneath a kerosene lamp and began reading.
Most entries were ordinary.
Cattle counts.
Weather.
Repairs.
Money owed.
Then, five months before Thomas disappeared, the tone changed.
Silas came again today. Says the southern creek is his. Daniel says the survey lines prove otherwise.
Two weeks later:
Saw men from Rourke outfit moving stones at the upper marker.
Then:
Daniel thinks we should speak with Land Office in Denver.
And finally, three days before Thomas vanished:
Found what Silas has done. God help us if he knows I know.
Ethan’s breath stopped.
The next page had been torn out.
So had the six pages following it.
He searched the trunk twice.
Nothing.
Someone had removed them.
Ethan remained at the table until sunrise.
At seven, he rode east.
Daniel Harmon was splitting kindling behind the house.
He looked up as Ethan approached.
The older man’s face told Ethan everything.
Daniel already knew Clara had spoken.
“Morning,” Daniel said.
Ethan dismounted.
“Did you kill my father?”
Daniel rested the axe against the stump.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
Only exhaustion.
“Come inside.”
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“Did you kill Thomas Callaway?”
Ruth appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Clara stood behind her.
Daniel looked at his daughter once.
Something complicated passed across his face.
Then he faced Ethan.
“I fired a gun at your father.”
Ruth whispered, “Daniel.”
Ethan felt the blood drain from his hands.
“At him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hit him?”
Daniel’s eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
Clara covered her mouth.
Ethan stepped forward.
“Where?”
“Miller’s Canyon.”
“What happened after?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Ethan grabbed the front of Daniel’s shirt.
Ruth cried out.
Clara rushed forward.
“Ethan!”
Daniel did not resist.
“You’re going to tell me.”
“No.”
“You shot my father!”
“Yes.”
“And you let me eat at your table for twenty years?”
“I did.”
“You let me call you friend?”
Daniel’s face twisted.
“That was harder than you know.”
Ethan shoved him backward.
Daniel stumbled against the woodpile.
Clara caught Ethan’s arm.
“Stop!”
He looked at her.
The horror on her face pulled him back from something dangerous.
Ethan stepped away.
Daniel straightened his shirt.
“Your father discovered something about Silas Rourke.”
“The land?”
Daniel stared.
“You found Thomas’s journal.”