Pike continued.
“He marries the heiress, controls access to both properties, and suddenly everyone calls him noble.”
Harlan lowered the revolver slightly.
Not because he trusted Pike.
Because he wanted Josephine to see his face.
“I knew where the boundary was.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid it would make everything I did look like this.”
Josephine’s anger rose.
“It does.”
“I know.”
Pike smiled.
“You see?”
Harlan looked only at Josephine.
“My land touches yours.”
“And you expect nothing from me?”
“Yes.”
“That is difficult to believe.”
“I know.”
Josephine hated that answer.
Because he never tried to charm his way around the truth.
Pike interrupted.
“We can discuss this like civilized people.”
Josephine looked at him.
“My mother tried that.”
His smile disappeared.
Silence filled the pass.
Josephine saw it again.
Fear.
Real fear.
“You killed her.”
Pike’s hand tightened on the reins.
“That is absurd.”
“The carriage wheel was cut.”
His face remained still.
Too still.
Josephine stepped closer.
“And you knew she hid something in my dress.”
Pike said nothing.
Harlan raised the revolver again.
Pike’s men looked nervous.
Josephine continued.
“You came to my father after she died.”
Still nothing.
“You intended to marry me into your family.”
Pike finally spoke.
“Your father had obligations.”
Josephine felt something inside her settle.
For months, grief had been shapeless.
Now it had edges.
Names.
Choices.
Her father’s weakness.
Pike’s greed.
Her mother’s courage.
And her own future.
Josephine lifted her chin.
“You’re right about one thing.”
Pike waited.
“I don’t understand what the land is worth.”
She touched the canvas sack.
“But I’m going to find out.”
Harlan fired.
Josephine screamed.
The bullet struck the branch above Pike’s head.
Snow collapsed from the tree.
At the same moment, Harlan slapped the horse’s flank.
Josephine’s mount surged forward.
“Ride!”
She obeyed.
Behind her, shouting erupted.
Gunfire followed.
Josephine bent low.
Harlan’s horse thundered beside hers.
They passed the fallen tree through a narrow gap near the cliff wall.
Pike’s men struggled to follow.
One horse slipped.
No one fell, but the delay gave Josephine and Harlan distance.
They rode until darkness swallowed the trail.
Silver Junction appeared shortly after midnight.
Oil lamps burned along the main street.
Josephine had never been so relieved to see civilization.
Harlan took them directly to the courthouse.
The building was closed.
He pounded on the judge’s residence next door.
A gray-haired man opened the door holding a shotgun.
“Harlan?”
Harlan nodded.
“Nathaniel.”
The judge’s gaze shifted toward Josephine.
Then the canvas sack.
His expression changed.
“Miriam’s daughter?”
Josephine stepped forward.
“Yes.”