Caleb kicked it into the dirt.
Another rider charged.
Caleb fired into the ground in front of the horse.
The animal reared.
The rider fell.
No one was shot.
Good.
The other two fled.
Caleb ran toward the fallen man.
Abigail emerged carrying the bell hammer like a club.
Caleb looked at it.
“Planning to kill him with church equipment?”
“If necessary.”
The rider removed his mask.
Abigail recognized him.
Bell’s bank clerk.
Walter Pryce.
Twenty-three.
Pale.
Terrified.
Caleb hauled him up.
“Bell send you?”
“No.”
Abigail walked closer.
“Walter.”
He looked at her.
She held the bell hammer.
“Reconsider.”
His face collapsed.
“Yes.”
Caleb stared.
“Why?”
“He said scare you.”
“Burn the barn?”
“Just a little.”
Abigail laughed sharply.
“There is no little arson.”
Walter began crying.
“I owe him money.”
Of course.
Bell did not recruit loyal men.
He recruited indebted ones.
Abigail lowered the hammer.
“What did he promise?”
“Clear my note.”
“In exchange?”
“Get the ledger.”
Caleb and Abigail looked at each other.
There it was.
Bell knew exactly what existed.
The next morning they entered the courthouse with Walter Pryce beside them.
Bell did not smile.
The territorial judge, Edwin Marsh, was older and impatient.
He expected a routine debt hearing.
Instead Abigail’s attorney placed Thomas Turner’s ledger on the table.
Bell’s face changed.
Then came freight drafts.
Western Range telegrams.
Caleb’s family property transfer.
Walter Pryce’s signed statement.
Dr. Reed’s statement regarding Thomas Turner’s suspected poisoning.
The burned locket.
The telegram from Texas.
Bell’s attorney objected so often the judge eventually said:
“Counsel, if you stand one more time without new grounds, I will have the bailiff remove your chair.”
The courtroom laughed.
Abigail did not.
She watched Bell.
For the first time since she was a child, he looked old.
When her turn came to testify, Bell’s attorney approached carefully.
“Mrs. Mercer.”
“Yes.”
“You married Mr. Mercer twelve days ago.”
“Yes.”
“After knowing him personally for how long?”
“Approximately three hours.”
The courtroom stirred.
The attorney smiled.
“Three hours.”
“Yes.”
“And now you expect this court to accept that within less than two weeks you have uncovered an enormous banking conspiracy.”
“No.”
He blinked.
“I expect the court to accept documents.”
A few people laughed.
The judge hid a smile.
The attorney continued.
“You are not formally trained in banking.”