“That is what everyone was told.”
Silas's hand tightened around the paper.
Mara spoke quietly.
“He discovered what Crowe was doing.”
“What was he doing?”
“Buying land from families who couldn't afford to fight him.”
“And?”
“Some families disappeared.”
Silas looked at her.
“Disappeared?”
“Men were accused of crimes they didn't commit. Women were threatened. Children were taken to relatives far away. People who refused to sell their land suddenly found themselves arrested.”
Silas stared at the papers.
“And my brother?”
“He tried to expose it.”
Silas looked toward the dark valley.
“How did he die?”
Mara lowered her eyes.
“They killed him.”
The words seemed to empty the night of sound.
Silas stepped backward.
“No.”
“I am sorry.”
“You weren't there.”
“No.”
“Then you don't know.”
“I know because I saw the order.”
Silas looked at the papers.
His brother's name was written on the page.
Underneath it was a payment.
Two hundred dollars.
And another name.
Harlan Crowe.
Silas folded the paper.
His hands were shaking.
Mara watched him.
“You don't have to believe me.”
Silas looked at her.
“I believe the handwriting.”
“What?”
“My brother's handwriting.”
He pointed toward the bottom of the page.
“He wrote that.”
Mara nodded.
“He was keeping records.”
Silas sat down on the porch.
For twelve years he had believed his brother died because of bad luck.
Now he knew.
It hadn't been bad luck.
It had been murder.
And the man responsible was still alive.
Mara sat beside him.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Finally, Silas said,
“Why did you take the papers?”
“Because my family was next.”
“Crowe?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He wanted our land.”
“And you refused.”
“My father refused.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
Silas looked at her.
“I'm sorry.”
“He was killed three weeks ago.”
Silas said nothing.
Mara continued.
“My mother is hiding with relatives.”
“Do they know where you are?”
“No.”
“Why come here?”
“I didn't choose your ranch.”
Silas looked confused.
“What do you mean?”
“I was trying to reach the old mission.”
“That's fifteen miles west.”
“I know.”
“You were going the wrong direction.”
“I know that now.”
Despite everything, Silas almost laughed.
Mara smiled faintly.
Then came the sound of a horse.
Both stood.
Silas grabbed his rifle.
Mara reached for a knife.
A rider appeared at the edge of the property.
Then another.
Then another.
Silas counted.
Eight.
Mara whispered,
“More than I expected.”
Silas looked at her.
“Stay inside.”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“They're here for me.”
“They're on my land.”
She stared at him.
“And what does that change?”