Amos joined her.
“What is it?”
“These tracks are newer.”
He frowned.
“Rusk?”
“Maybe.”
She crouched beside the prints.
One horse had been moving slowly, its right front hoof leaving a deeper impression.
Nora remembered the scarred foreman's horse. She had seen it outside the mill.
It had a damaged leg.
“He went west.”
Amos studied the tracks.
“That road leads to the old telegraph station.”
Nora stood.
“Then that's where we're going.”
They turned their horses toward the western trail.
For nearly an hour, they rode through the trees.
Then they heard a gunshot.
The sound echoed through the valley.
Amos raised his rifle.
“Down!”
The group scattered behind the rocks.
Another shot struck a tree beside Nora.
She pulled her horse behind a boulder and drew the revolver Luke had given her.
A man appeared on the ridge.
Caleb Rusk.
He was holding the leather satchel containing the mining ledger.
“Go back!” he shouted.
Nora stood slowly.
“It's over, Rusk.”
He laughed.
“Nothing is over until I say so.”
Amos raised his rifle.
Rusk fired.
The bullet struck the ground beside him, and Amos fell backward, clutching his shoulder.
Nora screamed his name.
The miners returned fire.
Rusk disappeared behind the ridge.
Nora ran to Amos.
Blood soaked his coat, but he was conscious.
“It's only a graze,” he said through clenched teeth.
Nora tore a strip from her underskirt and wrapped his shoulder.
“Stay here.”
Amos caught her wrist.
“Don't be foolish.”
She looked toward the ridge.
“I'm not going to let him escape.”
Amos stared at her.
Then he released her hand.
“Your father would have been proud.”
Nora swallowed hard.
She mounted her horse and rode toward the ridge.
The trail narrowed as it climbed.
At the top, she found the old telegraph station, a small wooden building that had been abandoned after the railroad company changed its route.
Rusk's horse stood outside.
Nora dismounted quietly and approached the door.
She heard the sound of paper tearing.
Rusk was destroying the ledger.
Nora pushed the door open.
He turned, his face twisted with fury.
“You should have stayed in Denver.”
Nora raised her revolver.
“Put it down.”
Rusk glanced at the weapon.
“You won't shoot me.”
“Try me.”
He laughed.
“You think you're like your father? Samuel Carter was a fool. He believed a few pieces of paper could change the world.”
Nora's hand trembled.
“You killed him.”
“He made his own choice.”
“You murdered him.”
Rusk's expression hardened.
“He refused to understand that powerful men don't answer to surveyors.”
Nora felt tears burn her eyes.
“My father was a better man than you will ever be.”
Rusk lunged toward the table.
Nora fired.
The bullet struck the wooden floor beside his boot.
He froze.
“Don't move!”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Rusk slowly raised his hands.
Nora stepped forward and took the ledger.
She glanced at the torn pages scattered across the table.
Some had been destroyed, but the majority remained intact.
“You'll answer for this,” she said.
Rusk smiled.
“Who will make me?”
Nora looked toward the doorway.
Amos Bell stood there, his shoulder bandaged, his rifle aimed at Rusk.
Behind him stood the three miners.
Amos smiled grimly.
“The whole town, if necessary.”
Rusk's face went pale.
For the first time in years, the men of Blackwater Creek were not afraid of him.
They had come to take him home.
And this time, he would not be returning as a free man.
By late afternoon, Nora and the others returned to Blackwater Creek with Caleb Rusk bound between two horses.
The sight of him riding through the main street brought people out of their homes. Some shouted accusations. Others stood silently, watching the man who had terrorized their families for years.
Reverend Miller met them outside the church.
“Is that the ledger?”
Nora held up the leather satchel.