He stepped closer.
"You think a few papers can destroy everything I've built?"
Abigail met his eyes.
"No."
He smiled.
"At least you're sensible."
She continued.
"I think the people you stole from will destroy it."
Ashcroft's smile vanished.
He raised his cane.
"Take them."
The guards moved forward.
Then a gunshot exploded from the staircase.
One guard fell backward.
The other spun.
A second shot struck the wall beside his head.
"DROP IT!"
Rachel Whitmore stood at the end of the corridor.
Her revolver was raised.
Sheriff Crowe stood beside her with his own weapon drawn.
Ashcroft froze.
Rachel smiled grimly.
"Did you miss me?"
Abigail gasped.
"Rachel!"
Her sister glanced toward her.
"Sorry I'm late."
Crowe stepped forward.
"Edward Ashcroft."
The older man stared.
"Nathaniel."
Crowe's voice trembled.
"Where is my daughter?"
Emily stepped from behind Abigail.
"Papa?"
Crowe went still.
The revolver lowered slightly in his hand.
He stared at the young woman.
For a moment, he seemed unable to breathe.
"Emily?"
She began crying.
"Papa!"
Crowe crossed the corridor.
He dropped to his knees before her.
She threw her arms around him.
He held her as though afraid she might vanish.
"My little girl..."
Emily sobbed against his shoulder.
"I thought you were dead."
Crowe closed his eyes.
"I thought I'd lost you."
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Even Rachel lowered her weapon slightly.
Then Ashcroft spoke.
"Touching."
Crowe looked up.
The older man's expression was cold.
"But I'm afraid this reunion changes nothing."
He lifted his cane.
A sharp metallic click sounded.
Rachel frowned.
"What was that?"
Ashcroft smiled.
"A signal."
From somewhere below, a bell began ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then footsteps thundered through the lower floors.
Abigail felt a chill.
More guards.
Ashcroft looked toward the staircase.
"You see, Sheriff, I anticipated that you might eventually become troublesome."
Crowe rose slowly.
He placed Emily behind him.
"Then you should have anticipated what happens next."
Ashcroft laughed.
"And what is that?"
Crowe raised his revolver.
"The law."
Ashcroft's smile widened.
"My dear Nathaniel, I own the law."
Crowe shook his head.
"Not anymore."
The older man stared.
Then a distant explosion shook the mansion.
Windows rattled.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Everyone froze.
Ashcroft turned sharply.
"What was that?"
A second explosion followed.
This one closer.
Rachel looked toward the window.
Smoke rose from the eastern courtyard.
She smiled.
"That would be our friends."
Ashcroft stared at her.
"What friends?"
Rachel stepped forward.
"The people of Silver Creek."
Outside, dozens of riders were approaching the mansion.
Farmers.
Railroad workers.
Blacksmiths.
Men who had once lost their land.
Men who had spent years believing they were powerless.
Now they rode together.
At their front was Reverend Collins.
Beside him rode Benjamin Carter.
And behind them came a wagon carrying a large wooden sign.
JUSTICE FOR SILVER CREEK
Ashcroft stared through the window.
For the first time in twenty years, his face showed genuine disbelief.
"They wouldn't dare."
Rachel smiled.
"They already did."
But beneath the mansion, in a locked room hidden behind the wine cellar, Caleb Voss was preparing one final act of betrayal.
He had arrived only minutes earlier.
He knew Ashcroft's empire was collapsing.
He knew the documents were on their way to Denver.
And he knew that if Ashcroft fell, everyone connected to him would fall as well.
Voss opened a heavy iron chest.
Inside were bundles of banknotes, gold coins, and a thick leather ledger.
The ledger contained the names of every official Ashcroft had bribed.
Every judge.
Every sheriff.
Every banker.
Every railroad commissioner.
And every man who had helped steal land from innocent families.
Voss lifted it.
For years, he had served Ashcroft.
For years, he had accepted orders.
For years, he had believed loyalty would make him wealthy enough to become untouchable.
Now he understood that Ashcroft would sacrifice him without hesitation.
Voss smiled bitterly.
"Not this time."
He placed the ledger inside a leather bag.
Then he reached for a revolver.
Above him, the mansion shook with the sound of approaching riders.
Voss moved toward a hidden passage leading into the woods.
But before he reached the door, a voice spoke behind him.
"Going somewhere, Caleb?"
Voss froze.
He turned.
A man stood in the doorway.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
His left arm bound in a bloodstained sling.
His face bruised.
His eyes cold.
Daniel Mercer.
Voss stared in disbelief.
"You're supposed to be in Denver."
Daniel stepped forward.
"Changed my plans."
Voss raised his revolver.
Daniel did not move.
The two men stared at each other.
Then Daniel spoke quietly.
"Put the gun down."
Voss smiled.
"Or what?"
Daniel's expression did not change.
"Or you'll make the last mistake of your life."
And somewhere above them, Edward Ashcroft realized that the world he had spent twenty years building was finally beginning to collapse.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE LAST BARGAIN
Caleb Voss had spent twenty years believing that every man possessed a price.
Some could be purchased with money.
Others could be persuaded with land, political influence, or the promise of a comfortable future.
And those who refused such offers could usually be controlled through fear.
He had built his fortune upon that understanding.
He had purchased failing ranches, manipulated bank loans, bribed officials, and watched honest families leave their homes with nothing but the belongings they could carry.
He had done it so often that he no longer remembered the names of most of his victims.
But he remembered Daniel Mercer.
And now Daniel stood between him and the only passage that offered a chance of escape.
The underground room beneath Ashcroft House was dimly lit by two oil lamps. Heavy stone walls enclosed a collection of iron chests, wine racks, and shelves containing documents that had never been intended for public inspection.
Voss stood beside an open chest, his revolver pointed directly at Daniel's chest.
The thick leather ledger was tucked beneath his left arm.
Daniel remained near the doorway.
His injured shoulder throbbed beneath the sling, and every breath reminded him of the bullet wound he had received at Blackwater Gorge.
He was exhausted.
He had lost too much blood.
He had not slept properly in nearly three days.
But his eyes were steady.
"Put the gun down, Caleb."
Voss laughed nervously.
"You look terrible, Mercer."
"Been a difficult week."
"I heard Briggs shot you."
"He did."
"Then how are you still standing?"
Daniel glanced at the revolver.
"Stubbornness."
Voss smiled without humor.
"I can see that."
He shifted the ledger beneath his arm.
"Step aside."
Daniel did not move.
"Where are you going?"
"That's none of your concern."
"Looks like you're leaving in a hurry."
"Move."