“Or what?”

“We ride to Laramie. We tell the sheriff exactly what happened here.”

Mercer's confidence disappeared.

He looked around.

No one stepped forward to defend him.

“Fine,” he muttered.

The ceremony lasted less than a minute.

Lillian could barely hear the words.

Her hands trembled.

When Mercer asked whether she accepted Cole Maverick as her husband, she whispered:

“I do.”

Cole's answer was steady.

“I do.”

Then it was done.

They were married.

Lillian had entered the dock as a condemned woman.

She left it as Cole Maverick's wife.

Cole lifted her into his arms.

Someone shouted:

“She still owes debts!”

Cole mounted his horse.

“Send me the bill.”

Then he looked back.

“If anyone touches my wife again, I'll come back.”

His voice was quiet.

That made it more frightening.

“I won't come alone.”

The horse turned.

Red Hollow disappeared behind them.

For three hours, they rode across the prairie.

Lillian sat in front of Cole.

She was exhausted.

Her wet dress had been replaced by a blanket Cole had wrapped around her.

Eventually, she spoke.

“Why did you save me?”

Cole remained silent.

“Why?”

He finally answered.

“Because I know what it feels like.”

“What?”

“To watch people you trust turn their backs.”

Lillian closed her eyes.

She understood.

Neither of them spoke again until sunset.

Then the landscape changed.

Green pasture appeared beyond the hills.

A river wound through the valley.

Thousands of cattle moved across the land.

At the center stood a massive stone ranch house.

Lillian stared.

“What is that?”

“Blackstone Ranch.”

“You live there?”

“Yes.”

She laughed weakly.

“I grew up in a two-room cabin.”

“You'll get used to it.”

When they arrived, Lillian tried to dismount.

Her legs collapsed.

Cole caught her.

“I can stand.”

“No, you can't.”

He carried her inside.

The front door opened.

A stout gray-haired woman came storming down the steps.

“Cole Maverick!”

Cole stopped.

“What did you do now?”

“Martha,” he said calmly, “this is my wife.”

Martha stared.

“Your what?”

“My wife.”

Her eyes moved to Lillian.

The bruised cheek.

The rope burns.

The ruined wedding dress.

Martha's expression changed instantly.

“Oh, Lord.”

She approached.

“You poor child.”

Lillian's eyes filled with tears.

Those were the first words anyone had spoken to her that day without hatred.

Martha turned toward Cole.

“Get out of my way.”

Cole blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“She needs a bath.”

“Martha—”

“And food.”

“Martha.”

“And sleep.”

She pointed toward the stairs.

“You can explain yourself later.”

Lillian followed her.

The bedroom was larger than the entire cabin where she had grown up.

A hot bath waited.

Lillian sank into it.

For the first time since the lake, she stopped shaking.

She scrubbed her skin until it hurt.

But the memories remained.

The rope.

The stones.

The crowd.

Her father's silence.

She closed her eyes.

Then she heard something.

Gunshots.

Lillian froze.

Martha rushed into the room.

“Riders.”

“Who?”

Martha's face was pale.

“Red Hollow.”

Lillian's stomach dropped.

“They followed us.”

Outside, Cole's voice thundered.

“You got no right to keep her!”

Another voice shouted:

“She’s accused of murder!”

Cole answered:

“She’s accused of breathing.”

Lillian stepped into the hallway.

She heard Cole say:

“If your preacher wants my wife, he can come try to take her.”

The riders eventually withdrew.

Lillian came downstairs.

Cole looked at her.

“I told you to stay upstairs.”

“I don't take orders.”

He stared at her.

Then, unexpectedly, he nodded.

“I’m starting to notice that.”

She folded her arms.

“They won't stop.”

“No.”

“How many men?”

“Maybe twenty.”

“And you?”

“Forty.”

Lillian looked toward the windows.

“So what happens now?”

Cole's expression hardened.

“Now we plan.”

Neither of them knew that the first attack would come before the week was over.

Three nights later, Lillian woke to smoke.

At first she thought she was dreaming.

Then she heard horses screaming.

She ran to the window.

The north barn was on fire.

Flames climbed into the night.

Men raced across the yard carrying buckets.

Cole stood near the burning structure shouting orders.

“Get the horses out!”

Lillian pulled on boots and ran outside.

Martha shouted after her.

“Where do you think you're going?”

“To help!”

She grabbed a bucket.

The heat struck her face.

Smoke filled her lungs.

She joined the line.

Bucket after bucket passed from hand to hand.

The barn was lost.

But they saved the horses.

By dawn, only blackened beams remained.

Lillian stood covered in soot.

Cole approached.

“You should have stayed inside.”