Nora shook her head.
“You were a prisoner.”
“I knew what they were planning. I knew they would come after him.”
He lowered his face into his hands.
Nora reached through the bars and touched his shoulder.
“My father left evidence. We have the records. We can expose them.”
Elias looked at her.
“Then you must leave. Briggs will kill you.”
“He won't.”
“You don't understand. He has men everywhere.”
Nora stood.
“Then it's time someone stopped being afraid of him.”
A door slammed above them.
Footsteps sounded on the staircase.
Nora turned.
Briggs appeared at the top, holding a revolver.
“Well,” he said. “I wondered how long it would take you to find him.”
Nora backed toward the cell.
Briggs descended slowly.
“Give me the journal.”
“I don't have it.”
He smiled.
“Then I'll take the prisoner instead.”
He raised his revolver.
A shot rang out.
Briggs spun around.
Luke Harper stood at the top of the staircase, his rifle aimed directly at the sheriff.
His coat was torn, and blood ran down his forehead.
But he was standing.
And behind him stood Charles Harper, leaning against the wall, his face pale with pain.
“Put the gun down, Briggs,” Luke said.
The sheriff laughed.
“You think you've won?”
“No.”
Luke's voice was steady.
“I think you've run out of places to hide.”
Briggs fired.
Luke ducked behind the stone wall.
Nora threw herself to the floor.
The shot struck the bars of Elias's cell.
Briggs rushed toward the staircase.
Charles stepped into his path.
For the first time in three years, father and son stood together against the same enemy.
Charles raised his revolver.
“It's over, Briggs.”
Briggs stared at him.
“You should have stayed out of this, Harper.”
Charles's hand trembled.
“I've stayed out of it long enough.”
Briggs turned his weapon toward Charles.
But before he could fire, Elias seized the sheriff's arm through the bars.
The revolver discharged into the ceiling.
Luke rushed down the stairs and struck Briggs across the jaw with the butt of his rifle.
The sheriff collapsed.
For several seconds, no one moved.
Then Elias whispered, “Luke?”
Luke turned.
His brother stood behind the bars, staring at him.
The years between them seemed to disappear.
Luke approached slowly.
“Elias.”
His brother's face crumpled.
“I'm sorry.”
Luke gripped the bars.
“Don't.”
“I should have come home.”
“Don't you dare apologize.”
Luke reached through the bars and took his brother's hand.
For three years, he had imagined this moment in a thousand different ways.
In some, he had found a grave.
In others, he had discovered a stranger wearing Elias's coat.
He had never imagined that the first thing his brother would say would be an apology.
Luke shook his head.
“You're here. That's all that matters.”
Charles stood at the foot of the stairs.
He watched his sons, unable to speak.
Elias looked at him.
For a long moment, the brothers said nothing.
Then Elias asked, “Father?”
Charles lowered his head.
“I'm sorry.”
Elias closed his eyes.
It was not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But it was the first honest thing Charles Harper had said in three years.
Nora found the keys hanging from Briggs's belt and unlocked the cell.
The moment the door opened, Elias collapsed.
Luke caught him before he struck the floor.
His brother weighed almost nothing. His wrists were raw from the chains, and old bruises covered his arms. One side of his face was scarred, and his left leg dragged when Luke helped him stand.
“How long?” Luke whispered.
Elias leaned against him.
“Three years.”
Luke closed his eyes.
Three years of believing he had abandoned his family. Three years of hearing his father's lies. Three years of searching every mountain while his brother had been imprisoned beneath the very town where they had grown up.
Luke tightened his grip.
“I'm taking you home.”
Elias looked toward Charles.
“Is he coming?”
The question cut deeper than any accusation.
Charles lowered his eyes.
“If you'll allow me.”
Elias did not answer.
They climbed the stairs slowly. Nora supported Elias on one side, while Luke carried most of his weight. Charles followed behind them, struggling with every step.