"I loved her."
Mara looked at him.
"I know."
"I thought she was all I had."
"Maybe she knew."
Maren looked toward the horizon.
For the first time in six years, tears appeared in his eyes.
"I should have listened."
Mara reached out.
She placed her hand over his.
"You didn't know."
Maren looked at her.
"Neither did you."
She smiled sadly.
"No."
The two rode on.
Behind them, the burned ranch disappeared into darkness.
Ahead waited Santa Fe.
And beneath its courthouse lay the truth that could destroy half the territory.
The Courthouse Beneath the Courthouse
They reached Santa Fe three days later.
The city was louder than Maren remembered.
Horses crowded the streets.
Wagons rolled through dust.
Merchants shouted.
Children ran between buildings.
Mara kept her head covered.
Maren kept his hand near his revolver.
They rented a room above a stable.
That night, they studied the courthouse.
Mara spread the map across the bed.
"There."
She pointed to the eastern wall.
"Old foundation."
Maren nodded.
"Underground storage."
"How do you know?"
"My father drew it."
They waited until midnight.
Then slipped through a rear door.
Inside, the courthouse was silent.
Maren had broken into places before.
But never with so much at stake.
They found the basement.
Stone stairs descended beneath the building.
At the bottom was a locked iron door.
Maren forced it.
Inside were shelves.
Boxes.
Documents.
Land deeds.
Mara moved quickly.
"There."
She pulled a bundle from a shelf.
Original land grants.
Signed.
Stamped.
Legal.
Then she froze.
One document bore Ruth's name.
Maren took it.
It was a sworn statement.
Ruth had written that she had witnessed illegal transfers of land and had identified the men responsible.
At the bottom was a signature.
Silas Vane.
Not as a witness.
As the buyer.
Maren's hands shook.
Then they heard footsteps.
Mara whispered,
"Someone is coming."
Maren blew out the lantern.
They hid behind the shelves.
The door opened.
Two men entered.
Sheriff Dalton.
And Judge Mercer.
Maren recognized the judge.
The same judge who had once dismissed his complaint about Ruth's death.
Dalton spoke.
"Vane says Crowe has the ledger."
"Then find him."
"What if Hale told him?"
"Hale is dead."
Maren looked at Mara.
She understood.
The men continued.
"The girl must die too."
"She's Thomas Bell's daughter."
"Exactly."
Maren waited.
Then the judge said something that made his blood turn cold.
"Ruth Crowe was supposed to be killed six years ago."
Maren's breathing stopped.
Dalton asked,
"Why wasn't she?"
"Because Crowe came home early."
Silence.
Then:
"The fever story worked."
Maren's hand tightened around his revolver.
Ruth had not died from fever.
She had been poisoned.
Mara looked horrified.
Maren felt something inside him break.
The judge continued.
"She knew too much."
"Did Vane order it?"
"Vane gave the order."
Maren stepped from behind the shelves.
"No."
The men spun around.
Maren raised his revolver.
"You killed my wife."
The judge went pale.
"Who—"
"You killed Ruth."
Dalton reached for his gun.
Maren fired.
The sheriff fell.
The judge froze.
Maren walked toward him.
"Tell me why."
The judge trembled.
"She knew about the land."
"That's not enough."
"She knew about the soldiers."
"What soldiers?"
"The ones Vane had killed."
Maren stared.
The judge continued.
"Your cavalry column six years ago wasn't attacked."
Maren's face went blank.
"You were betrayed."
"By whom?"
The judge whispered,
"Colonel Mercer."
Maren nearly dropped the gun.
His former commander.
The man who had signed his discharge.
The man whose death had begun everything.
"Mercer worked for Vane?"
"Yes."
Maren stepped closer.
"Why?"
"Money."
Mara interrupted.
"Where is Vane?"
The judge looked at her.
"He is coming here."
"When?"
"Tonight."
Maren looked toward the door.
"Then we'll be waiting."
They took the documents.
Then they dragged the judge upstairs.
By dawn, half the city knew.
But Maren understood something.
Documents were not enough.
Power protected itself.
They needed witnesses.
They needed someone outside Vane's reach.
Mara remembered her father's words.
"There was one man."
"Who?"
"A newspaper editor."
"Name?"
"Samuel Hart."
Maren found him that afternoon.
Hart was a thin man with spectacles and an office filled with papers.
He read the ledger.
Then the deeds.
Then Ruth's statement.
His hands shook.
"If I publish this, they will burn my office."
Maren said,
"Probably."
"They'll kill me."
"Probably."
Hart stared at him.
"You're not very encouraging."
"I've never been good at it."
Mara smiled.
Hart looked at her.
Then at the documents.
"How much of this can I print?"
"All of it."
He nodded.
"Then I'll need one more thing."
"What?"
"A public witness."
Maren understood.
He had spent six years hiding.
Now he had to stand in front of everyone.
The next morning, the courthouse square filled with people.
Hart stood on the courthouse steps.
Maren stood beside Mara.
The ledger was in his hand.
Silas Vane arrived with twenty armed men.
He dismounted slowly.
"You should have stayed in the wilderness."
Maren looked at him.
"I tried."
Vane smiled.
"And?"
Maren glanced at Mara.
"And then I found something worth coming back for."
The Last Ride of Silas Vane
Silas Vane ordered his men forward.
The crowd scattered.
Windows slammed shut.
Doors locked.
But Samuel Hart remained on the courthouse steps.
He held the ledger.
"You shoot us," Hart shouted, "and every copy goes to the territorial newspaper!"
Vane stopped.
Maren looked at him.
"You can't kill everyone."
Vane smiled.
"I don't have to."
He pointed at Mara.
"Just her."
Mara stepped forward.
"My father knew you."
Vane nodded.
"He did."
"You killed him."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he believed truth mattered."