There were only twenty-three people.
Twenty-three against nearly fifty men.
Reed looked at Cole.
"That's not enough."
Cole looked down the street.
"Maybe."
Nora stepped forward.
"Then we'll make them believe it is."
They placed men on rooftops.
Women loaded rifles.
Farmers blocked the roads with wagons.
The church bell rang.
Rourke's men entered town at ten.
They expected fear.
Instead, they found barricades.
The first gunshot came from the blacksmith's roof.
Then another.
Rourke's men scattered.
Cole moved through the street.
He didn't shoot unless necessary.
He wanted them to run.
Some did.
Others stayed.
By noon, half the attackers were gone.
Then Rourke appeared.
He walked into the courthouse carrying a torch.
Cole followed.
Inside, Rourke threw the torch onto a pile of documents.
Flames rose.
Nora entered behind Cole.
"My father's records."
Rourke smiled.
"Not anymore."
Nora raised her pistol.
Rourke grabbed Clara, who had followed them.
He pressed a gun to her head.
"Drop it."
Nora lowered her weapon.
Rourke laughed.
"You see? That's the problem with people who care."
Cole watched carefully.
Then he noticed the courthouse bell rope hanging behind Rourke.
He looked at Nora.
She understood.
She stepped left.
Rourke followed her eyes.
Cole pulled the rope.
The bell crashed down from above.
Rourke jumped aside.
Cole fired.
Rourke escaped through a window.
The courthouse was burning.
But the records were safe.
Most of them.
Nora held one document.
It was signed by Rourke himself.
Proof.
Real proof.
Enough to send him to prison.
If they could keep him alive.
The Chase
Rourke fled north.
Cole followed.
Nora insisted on coming.
They rode through the mountains.
At sunset, they found Rourke's horse abandoned.
Cole dismounted.
"He went on foot."
Nora looked toward the cliffs.
"Where?"
Cole pointed.
"The old railroad tunnel."
They entered.
Darkness swallowed them.
Halfway through, a gunshot echoed.
Cole pushed Nora against the wall.
Another shot.
Then silence.
They continued.
Rourke stood at the far end.
His horse waited behind him.
"You should have left," he said.
Cole raised his pistol.
"People keep telling me that."
Rourke smiled.
"Do you know what happens to men who try to save everyone?"
Cole's eyes hardened.
"They die."
Rourke nodded.
"Exactly."
He fired.
Cole returned fire.
Rourke disappeared into the darkness.
Nora found blood on the ground.
"He was hit."
Cole followed the trail.
It led toward the cliff.
They emerged from the tunnel.
Rourke was gone.
Only his hat remained.
Nora looked over the edge.
"He fell."
Cole shook his head.
"No."
"How do you know?"
"Because men like Rourke don't fall."
He looked down.
"They jump."
The Hidden Cabin
Three days passed.
No sign of Rourke.
Mercy Creek began to breathe again.
Then a boy arrived at the sheriff's office.
He said he had seen a wounded man near an abandoned cabin.
Cole knew immediately.
He rode there alone.
Nora followed anyway.
Inside the cabin, they found Rourke.
He was bleeding badly.
His pistol lay on the floor.
Cole raised his weapon.
Rourke laughed.
"Go ahead."
Cole didn't shoot.
"You killed three men in this town."
"Four."
"You burned homes."
"Yes."
"You murdered Judge Bell."
Rourke stared at him.
"Yes."
Nora stepped forward.
"Why?"
Rourke looked at her.
"Because your father thought law mattered."
"He did."
"He was wrong."
Rourke coughed.
"Out here, law belongs to whoever has enough men to enforce it."
Nora shook her head.
"No."
She raised the document.
"Law belongs to everyone."
Rourke smiled.
"You sound like him."
"I am his daughter."
Rourke looked at Cole.
"You really think you can change this place?"
Cole answered:
"No."
He lowered his gun.
"But maybe they can."
Rourke looked toward the window.
Outside, Mercy Creek's people were approaching.
They had followed them.
For the first time, Rourke looked afraid.
Not of Cole.
Of the crowd.
The people he had controlled for years were no longer afraid.
Sheriff Reed stepped forward.
"Silas Rourke, you're under arrest."
Rourke laughed.
Then he reached for his gun.
Cole moved faster.
A single shot.
Rourke fell.
Silence.
Nora looked at Cole.
"Did you have to?"
Cole stared at Rourke.
"He chose."
She nodded.
She understood.
Some men spent their entire lives believing they could control the moment when everything ended.
Rourke had been one of them.
Until the end.
The Trial
The trial lasted two weeks.
Witnesses came from three counties.
Farmers.
Widows.
Bankers.
Former deputies.
They told the same story.
Rourke had stolen land.
Bribed officials.
Threatened families.
Killed anyone who resisted.
The ledger was presented as evidence.
So were the deeds.
So were the records from the courthouse.
Mercy Creek finally learned the truth.
But truth did not repair everything.
Some graves remained.
Some houses remained burned.
Some children had lost fathers.
Justice could punish a man.
It could not bring the dead back.
Nora stood at her father's grave.
Cole joined her.
"You leaving?"
She nodded.
"Washington."
"Why?"
"My father believed the law could work."
"And now?"
She smiled.
"Now I think it needs people willing to make it work."
Cole looked toward the town.
"What will you do?"
"Study law."
He smiled.
"That sounds dangerous."
She laughed.
"Why?"