And for the first time, he understood that imagining it was the easy part.
Living it would require something much harder.
Blackstone Ranch
Blackstone Ranch stood twenty miles south of Mercy Crossing, where the prairie rose into a series of low, rocky hills.
The ranch house was built from dark timber, with a wide porch and a stone chimney. A large barn stood behind it, surrounded by corrals and water troughs. Several hundred cattle grazed across the surrounding land.
It was a prosperous place.
Too prosperous, Elias thought, for a man whose business depended on honesty.
He rode there with Marshal Pierce and two deputies on a cold morning in late October.
The shoulder wound had healed enough for him to ride, although every movement still caused a dull ache. Ranger moved steadily beneath him, his ears alert.
The marshal had insisted that Elias remain behind the lawmen.
Elias had agreed.
He had learned that cooperation did not mean surrendering his judgment. It meant recognizing that a man did not have to carry every burden alone.
They reached the ranch shortly after nine.
A man stood on the porch, watching them approach.
He was in his early fifties, with a broad face, gray hair, and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a dark vest and a white shirt, and his hands rested comfortably on the railing.
Gideon Rusk.
Time had changed him.
The man Elias remembered had been leaner, quicker to anger, and more concerned with appearances. The man on the porch looked like a respectable rancher who might have attended church on Sunday and donated money to a schoolhouse.
But Elias recognized his eyes.
Cold.
Calculating.
Untroubled by the suffering of others.
Rusk smiled when he saw the marshal.
"Samuel Pierce. What brings you to my property?"
Pierce dismounted.
"We have a warrant."
"For whom?"
"Gideon Rusk."
The smile faded.
"On what charge?"
"Conspiracy, theft, fraud, and accessory to murder."
Rusk laughed.
"That's quite a list."
"It is."
"And who is making these accusations?"
Pierce turned toward Elias.
"This man."
Rusk looked at him.
For a moment, recognition did not register.
Then his eyes widened.
"Elias Ward."
Elias dismounted.
"Hello, Gideon."
Rusk's expression changed into something resembling amusement.
"I thought you were dead."
"So did I, once or twice."
"What a surprise. After all these years, you come back to accuse me of crimes you were part of."
Elias felt the words strike exactly where Rusk intended.
He had no defense against the truth.
"You're right," he said.
Rusk blinked.
"What?"
"I was part of it. I accepted your money. I kept quiet. I left a family without answers. I'm prepared to answer for that."
Rusk's smile returned.
"Then perhaps you should be arrested first."
Pierce stepped forward.
"That decision will be made by the territorial court."
Rusk glanced toward the ranch house.
Several men had emerged from the barn. They were armed, but none had raised a weapon.
"You can't take me without a fight," Rusk said.
Pierce removed the warrant from his coat.
"We can try."
Rusk looked at Elias.
"You know what happens when men like us tell the truth? We lose everything. Our money. Our land. Our freedom. All for the sake of people who wouldn't lift a finger to help us."
Elias shook his head.
"No, Gideon. We lose those things because we took them from other people."
Rusk's face hardened.
"You always were a sentimental fool."
"Perhaps."
Elias glanced at the ranch house.
"But I know something you never learned."
"And what's that?"
"A man can lose everything he owns and still be worth something. But when he sells his conscience, he doesn't have anything left to lose."
For a moment, Rusk seemed unable to speak.
Then he laughed.
"Conscience. Is that what you call it now? You think standing beside a marshal makes you honest? You think confessing to a crime makes you innocent?"
"No."
"Then what are you doing here?"
Elias met his gaze.
"Making sure you don't get to decide what happens next."
Rusk moved suddenly.
His hand went toward the revolver beneath his vest.
Pierce shouted.
One of the deputies drew his weapon.
But Elias was already moving.
He stepped forward and struck Rusk's wrist with the butt of his revolver. The gun fell onto the porch. Rusk lunged at him, driving a shoulder into his wounded side.
Pain exploded through Elias.
They crashed against the railing.
Rusk was stronger than he looked. He seized Elias by the coat and tried to throw him down the steps.
Elias grabbed his vest.
For a moment, they struggled inches from the edge.
Then Ranger surged forward.
The stallion had followed Elias onto the porch, and when Rusk shoved his rider, Ranger struck the boards with his front hooves and drove his shoulder against the railing.
Rusk lost his balance.
He fell backward into the yard.
Pierce and the deputies rushed forward.
Rusk tried to rise, but the marshal placed a boot against his chest and pointed his revolver at him.
"Don't move."
The rancher stared up at him.
For the first time, the mask had fallen away completely.
He looked frightened.
Not because he had been caught.
Because he had finally discovered that the world did not always bend around his will.
The deputies bound his hands.
As they led him toward the horses, Rusk turned to Elias.
"You think this ends anything?"
Elias stood on the porch, breathing hard.
"No."
Rusk's eyes narrowed.