"No. He threatened me."
Rook shrugged.
"Sometimes that's the same thing."
He lunged.
Mara slashed with the knife.
The blade caught his sleeve.
He cursed and seized her wrist.
She drove her knee into his thigh.
He stumbled but did not release her.
The knife fell.
Rook shoved her against the wall.
A clay pot shattered beside her head.
"Stupid girl!"
Mara struggled.
He tightened his grip.
"Where is it?"
"I don't know!"
"Where's the ledger?"
She froze.
Ledger.
She had never heard that word connected to her grandmother's house.
Rook saw the confusion in her face.
And realized his mistake.
Before he could speak again, a voice came from the doorway.
"Take your hands off her."
Caleb Mercer stood in the entrance.
His revolver was drawn.
Rook released Mara instantly.
"Now, hold on—"
"Step away."
"Mercer?"
Caleb's eyes narrowed.
"You know me?"
Rook swallowed.
"Everybody knows you."
"Then you know I don't like repeating myself."
Rook backed away.
Mara moved toward the kitchen table.
Her wrist throbbed.
Her shoulder burned.
But she kept her eyes on the intruder.
Caleb gestured toward the door.
"Out."
Rook looked between them.
"You don't understand what you're getting into."
"Probably not."
"These people aren't worth dying for."
Caleb's expression turned cold.
"That's a strange thing to say to a man holding a gun."
Rook hesitated.
Then he left.
Caleb waited until the sound of the man's horse faded into the distance.
Only then did he holster his revolver.
"Are you hurt?"
Mara shook her head.
Then winced.
Caleb noticed.
"Your wrist."
"It's nothing."
"Let me see."
"I said it's nothing."
He stepped back.
"All right."
She stared at him.
"How did you find me?"
"I saw Rook leaving town. He had your address written on a piece of paper."
"You followed him?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Caleb looked around the ruined kitchen.
"Because I knew what kind of man he was."
Mara picked up a broken plate.
It had belonged to her mother.
She held the pieces for a moment.
Then set them down carefully.
"He was looking for something beneath the hearth."
Caleb turned.
"What?"
"A ledger."
The word struck him like a blow.
He crossed to the fireplace.
"Did he find it?"
"No."
"Are you certain?"
"He was still searching when I came in."
Caleb knelt beside the loose stone.
Mara watched him.
"How do you know about it?"
He did not answer immediately.
Instead, he ran his fingers along the edge of the stone.
Then he looked up.
"Because my father left me a letter."
"What does your father have to do with my grandmother?"
"I don't know yet."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
Mara crouched beside him.
Together, they lifted the stone.
Beneath it was a shallow cavity lined with old cloth.
Inside lay a narrow wooden box.
Its lid had been sealed with wax.
Mara lifted it carefully.
A faded symbol had been carved into the wood.
A black circle.
Three crossing lines.
Caleb went completely still.
Mara noticed.
"What is it?"
He reached for the box.
Then stopped himself.
"Where did your grandmother get this?"
"I don't know."
"Did she ever tell you about Black Mesa?"
Mara's breath caught.
"Why?"
"Did she?"
"My mother used to speak about it."
"What did she say?"
Mara looked at the symbol.
"That the dead were never properly counted."
Caleb felt the old wound inside him reopen.
"How many?"
"Six."
He closed his eyes.
Six.
The number had followed him through seventeen years of exile.
Six bodies.
Six accusations.
Six reasons the town had decided he was a murderer.
But Mara wasn't finished.
"My grandmother said there should have been seven."
Caleb opened his eyes.
"What?"
"She said one person survived."
"Who?"
Mara hesitated.
Then whispered the name.
"Jonah Mercer."
Caleb staggered backward.
Jonah.
His younger brother.
The boy he had spent seventeen years believing was dead.
For a moment, the kitchen seemed to tilt around him.
He gripped the edge of the table.
"That's impossible."
Mara stared at him.
"You knew him?"
Caleb's voice broke.
"He was my brother."
Outside, the wind rose.
The cottonwood branches scraped against the window.
And far away, somewhere beyond the hills, a single gunshot echoed through the darkness.
Mara looked toward the sound.
Caleb did not move.
He was staring at the wooden box.
At the symbol carved into its lid.
At the possibility that everything he believed about his past had been constructed by the men who destroyed it.
Then Mara broke the wax seal.
Inside were three objects.
A small brass key.
A photograph of seven men standing beside a mining wagon.
And a folded document bearing the official seal of the Arizona Territory.
Across the top, written in fading ink, were five words.
CONFIDENTIAL RECORD OF LAND TRANSFER
Beneath them was a date.
October 17, 1870.
Caleb recognized it immediately.
It was the day before the Black Mesa killings.
Mara unfolded the document.
Her hands began to tremble.
At the bottom were seven signatures.
One belonged to her grandfather.
Another belonged to Samuel Mercer.
And the final signature belonged to a man whose name was now spoken with respect throughout Red Hollow.
Sheriff Gideon Voss.
Mara looked at Caleb.
"What does this mean?"
Caleb studied the signatures.
Then he looked toward the open door.
"It means your family didn't lose that land."
He took the document carefully.
"It was stolen."
"And my brother?"