A third disappeared himself.
Each time Amos had tried to resist.
Each time Pike had tightened the rope.
Until eventually Amos stopped resisting.
"I told myself I was keeping people alive," he said.
Evelyn shook her head.
"You were keeping yourself alive."
Amos looked down.
"I know."
That admission hurt more than denial.
Evelyn took the copied pages from beneath her dress.
They contained names.
Payments.
Property transfers.
Dates.
Arrests.
Disappearances.
And one name appeared again and again.
Silas Pike.
The ledger was not simply proof of corruption.
It was a map of how Pike had conquered the town.
He had bought judges.
He had paid deputies.
He had forced ranchers into debt.
He had arranged false arrests.
And somewhere in those pages was proof that several men believed to have fled Las Vegas had actually been murdered.
Evelyn had found the ledger three nights earlier.
She had spent every night copying its contents.
She knew that if Pike obtained the original, the evidence would disappear.
But she also knew something else.
The original ledger was still hidden.
And Pike was searching for it.
That evening, Evelyn left the sheriff's office through the back door.
She did not know Caleb was watching from across the street.
He had rented a room above the livery stable.
He had also learned something important.
Silas Pike had recognized the way Caleb wore his gun.
Not the weapon itself.
The way he carried it.
Pike had seen men like him before.
Men who had lived by violence and survived it.
Caleb had no interest in becoming involved.
But he had seen the look in Evelyn's eyes.
He knew what it meant.
It was the look of someone who had realized that the person meant to protect them had become part of the danger.
Caleb knew that look because he had worn it himself.
Twenty years earlier.
Before he became a gunslinger.
Before he became a drifter.
Before he stopped using his real name.
His younger brother Daniel had been killed by men who called themselves lawmen.
Caleb had learned the truth too late.
His father had been forced to remain silent.
His mother had begged him not to seek revenge.
Caleb had ignored her.
He had killed three men.
Then he had spent the next decade running from the consequences.
He had promised himself never to become involved in another town's war.
Yet here he was.
Watching Evelyn Mercer walk into danger.
Near midnight, she found him waiting beside the stable.
"I need your help."
Caleb leaned against the wall.
"You should go to sleep."
"I don't have time."
"Nobody has time when they're frightened."
"I'm not frightened."
He looked at her bruised wrists.
"You're terrified."
Evelyn did not deny it.
"The ledger is hidden in the old church."
Caleb's expression changed.
"Why tell me?"
"Because Pike is going there."
"How do you know?"
"My father."
Caleb stared at her.
"Your father told him?"
"No."
Evelyn hesitated.
"He tried to warn me."
"That's different."
"Not enough."
Caleb nodded.
"Where in the church?"
"Under the altar."
Caleb looked toward the dark street.
"We leave now."
Evelyn blinked.
"Now?"
"If Pike is going there, you don't want him arriving first."
They rode through the sleeping town beneath a pale moon.
The church stood at the edge of Las Vegas, abandoned for years.
The doors creaked open.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and old wood.
Evelyn approached the altar.
Caleb raised a hand.
"Wait."
He listened.
Nothing.
Then—
A horse whinnied outside.
Caleb drew his revolver.
"We're not alone."
The church doors slammed shut.
A voice came from the darkness.
"You should have stayed out of this, Roark."
Silas Pike stepped from the shadows.
And behind him stood six armed men.
THE CHURCH AT MIDNIGHT
Evelyn's heart pounded.
Caleb stood between her and Pike.
Pike smiled.
"You have a habit of making things difficult."
Caleb's hand rested near his revolver.
"You have a habit of hurting people who can't fight back."
Pike laughed.
"That's how the world works."
"No."
Caleb's eyes hardened.
"That's how men like you make it work."
Pike's men spread through the church.
Evelyn looked around.
There was nowhere to run.
Pike stepped forward.