“Yes.”
“He shouldn’t have kept that.”
“What did Rourke do?”
Daniel looked toward the fields.
“Ask Gideon.”
“I’m asking you.”
“I made a promise.”
“To who?”
Daniel would not answer.
Ethan’s voice dropped.
“My father?”
Still nothing.
That was answer enough.
Ethan stared at him.
“You made a promise to the man you supposedly killed?”
Daniel looked suddenly older.
“Some promises cost more than others.”
Before Ethan could respond, hoofbeats sounded from the south road.
Four riders approached.
At their head sat Gideon Rourke.
He wore a black coat despite the heat and rode a tall gray gelding.
He dismounted smiling.
“Callaway.”
Ethan turned.
“Rourke.”
Gideon’s attention moved immediately to Clara.
“Miss Harmon.”
She did not answer.
Gideon walked toward the porch.
“I thought Sunday would be appropriate, Daniel, but circumstances have changed.”
Daniel’s shoulders stiffened.
“What circumstances?”
Gideon looked at Ethan.
“Private matters becoming less private.”
Clara stepped beside her father.
“You mean your blackmail.”
Gideon smiled faintly.
“I mean family arrangements.”
“I will never marry you.”
“No?”
“No.”
He glanced at Daniel.
“Then perhaps Sheriff Pike should see what Mr. Briggs witnessed twenty years ago.”
Ethan’s head snapped up.
“Briggs?”
Gideon’s smile widened.
“Yes.”
Clara whispered, “Mr. Briggs?”
The old man Clara carried soup to.
The quiet widower living in the small cabin beyond the north ridge.
Ethan had repaired his roof the previous autumn.
Briggs had watched him work for hours.
Never once had he mentioned Thomas Callaway.
Gideon reached inside his coat and produced folded paper.
Ethan stepped toward him.
“Give me that.”
“No.”
“What did Briggs see?”
“Daniel Harmon putting a bullet into your father.”
Daniel said quietly, “Gideon.”
Rourke ignored him.
“The statement is signed and witnessed.”
Ethan looked at Daniel.
“Is it true?”
Daniel stared at the ground.
Gideon chuckled.
“That looks like guilt to me.”
Clara moved between them.
“What do you want?”
Gideon’s eyes settled on her.
“You know.”
“My father’s debt.”
“Forgiven.”
“The east pasture.”
“Remains his for life.”
“And the creek?”
“Becomes Rourke property.”
Ethan understood.
Not Clara.
Not really.
Water.
The Harmon creek fed two ranches year-round.
Even in drought, it never ran dry.
If Rourke controlled it, he controlled nearly every ranch between Milh Haven and the southern foothills.
“You don’t want a wife,” Ethan said.
Gideon smiled.
“I’m thirty-six, Callaway. I want many things.”
“You want the water.”
“I want what belongs to me.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Records say otherwise.”
“Records can be forged.”
For the first time Gideon’s smile vanished.
Only for a second.
But Ethan saw it.
So did Daniel.
Gideon returned the paper to his coat.
“Sunday,” he told Clara. “Church. Ten o’clock.”
“I won’t come.”
“Then Sheriff Pike will.”
He mounted.
Before leaving, Gideon looked at Ethan.
“Your father was a stubborn man.”
Ethan’s hands curled.
“So are you.”
Gideon smiled again.
“Stubborn men have unfortunate accidents around Miller’s Canyon.”
Then he rode away.
Elias Briggs’s cabin smelled of pine smoke and liniment.
The old man opened the door before Ethan knocked.