He placed it on the desk.
"Crowe has been paying me for eight months. He started with small amounts. Money for medicine. Money for repairs. Then he began asking me to ignore complaints."
Elias opened the notebook.
"How many?"
"Twenty-three."
"Twenty-three what?"
"Complaints. Threats. Assaults. Two disappearances."
Elias's jaw tightened.
"Who disappeared?"
"Thomas Avery. And a man named Daniel Price, who worked for Crowe until he tried to leave."
"Where are they?"
"I don't know."
"Do you believe Crowe killed them?"
Briggs looked at him.
"Yes."
Elias closed the notebook.
"Then this is what happens now. You gather every honest man you can find. You lock down the roads. You send someone to Redstone with copies of these records and the letter. You tell the town what you did and why."
"And if Crowe comes here?"
"We'll be ready."
Briggs looked at the revolver on Elias's hip.
"You're going to fight him?"
"If I have to."
The sheriff studied him.
"You look like a man who's fought enough battles."
"I have."
"Then why keep doing it?"
Elias thought of his mother's Bible.
Of the boy beside the burning wagon.
Of the promise he had made to a dying man and never kept.
"Because some battles are worth being tired for."
Briggs rose.
For the first time, the sheriff looked like a man who had remembered something important about himself.
"I'll help you."
Elias nodded.
"Good."
They spent the next hour preparing the town.
Briggs sent his deputy, a young man named Caleb Morris, to gather the ranchers. Amos Hobbs brought rifles from the livery's storage room. Benjamin Bell opened his store and distributed ammunition to anyone willing to defend the settlement.
Anna went to the Dawson house to check on Ruth, whose injured leg had begun to swell. Whitaker remained with Bell, organizing the maps and preparing a statement that could be sent to the territorial authorities.
By nightfall, nearly thirty people had gathered in the church.
Some were ranchers.
Others were storekeepers, laborers, and parents who had spent months pretending that the threats against their neighbors would never reach their own doors.
Briggs stood before them.
He removed his hat.
"My name is Walter Briggs," he began. "I have served as sheriff of Mercy Crossing for eleven years. During that time, I have taken money from Silas Crowe and allowed him to threaten, intimidate, and rob the people of this town."
A murmur passed through the church.
One man stood.
"You did what?"
Briggs did not look away.
"I accepted money in exchange for ignoring complaints. I told myself I was protecting my family. I was wrong."
The man stepped forward.
"My brother disappeared last spring. I came to you."
"I know."
"You told me he had run away."
"I lied."
The man struck Briggs across the face.
The sheriff staggered but did not raise his hands.
"You're right to be angry," he said.
The man struck him again.
Briggs fell against a pew.
Nobody moved to help him.
Then Anna stood.
"Enough."
The man turned.
"My brother is dead because of him."
"Maybe," Anna replied. "But if you kill him now, Crowe wins twice. He gets to keep the records hidden, and he gets to watch us destroy ourselves."
The man stood breathing hard.
Anna looked around the church.
"We have spent months waiting for someone else to solve this problem. We waited for the sheriff. We waited for the county judge. We waited for the marshal. We waited because we were afraid of what would happen if we stood together."
She glanced at Elias.
"Now we have a chance to stop waiting."
The room grew quiet.
Amos Hobbs rose from the second pew.
"I'm too old to run," he said. "And I'm too stubborn to let Crowe burn my stable again."
A few people laughed.
Then Benjamin Bell stood.
"My wife spent twenty-two years helping this town. She would have stood with you."
One by one, the others rose.
Not all of them.
Some remained seated, their fear stronger than their anger.
But enough stood to change the room.
Elias watched from the back.
He had seen men prepare for gunfights before. They usually spoke loudly, checked their weapons, and tried to convince one another that they were not afraid.
These people did not look fearless.
They looked terrified.
And for the first time, Elias understood that courage was not the absence of fear.
It was the decision to stop letting fear make every choice.
After the meeting, he stepped outside.
Anna joined him on the church steps.
"You changed your mind about leaving," she said.
"Apparently."
"Do you regret it?"
He considered the question.
"No."
She looked at him for a moment.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You've been doing that all day."
"Why did you really come back?"
Elias looked toward the northern hills.
He could have given her the easy answer.
He could have said that he disliked bullies, or that Crowe had gone too far, or that a man ought to help when he could.
All of those things were true.
None of them was the whole truth.
"I once made a promise to a dying man," he said.
Anna waited.
"I promised I'd find his daughter. I never did. I took money from the people who killed him, and I spent years telling myself I'd made the best choice available."
He paused.
"I was wrong."
Anna's expression softened.
"How old was the girl?"