Crow was tall and heavy through the chest, with dark hair graying at the temples and the easy posture of a man accustomed to seeing doors open before he knocked.
He shook Wren’s hand.
Then both men went inside.
Garrick whispered:
“Still coincidence?”
Nola said nothing.
Ten minutes later, another rider appeared.
Garrick stiffened.
“Deputy Pike.”
Nola looked at him.
“Friend?”
“Coward.”
“That answer is becoming common around here.”
Pike rode into Crow’s yard.
Entered the same house.
Nola watched.
Doctor.
Land buyer.
Deputy.
The shape widened.
“Tell me about Pike.”
“Local deputy.”
“Works under who?”
“County sheriff based west.”
“Sheriff trustworthy?”
Garrick thought.
“Probably.”
Nola gave him a look.
“Useful.”
“Pike handles Hollow Creek district.”
“Crow helped his brother get grazing contracts.”
“There.”
“What?”
“Connection.”
“Still not—”
“Say ‘not proof’ again and I may leave you on this ridge.”
Nola smiled.
“You’re learning restraint.”
Garrick looked toward Crow’s house.
“What now?”
“We go home.”
His head snapped around.
“We finally found them together.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And if we walk into that yard with nothing but anger, we lose.”
“I could make Wren talk.”
“With what?”
Garrick’s silence answered.
Nola turned toward him.
“No.”
“He killed Mae.”
“We still do not know that.”
“I know enough.”
“You know enough to investigate.”
“Not enough to hang.”
Garrick looked toward the distant house.
His face was carved from grief.
Nola softened.
“If Crow did this, he has spent years betting that desperate people make desperate mistakes.”
“Don’t prove him right.”
Garrick’s eyes moved toward her.
That reached him.
Finally:
“What do we do?”
Nola looked toward Crow’s fields.
“You said he wants Hollow Creek.”
“Yes.”
“Then we let him think he’s getting it.”
Garrick stared.
“No.”
“You asked.”
“No.”
“Excellent discussion.”
“Hollow Creek belonged to my father.”
“And his father.”
“And Mae wanted it protected.”
“Exactly.”
“So you will not sell.”
“No.”
Nola smiled.
“You’re not listening.”
His expression changed.
Slowly.
“You want me to pretend.”
“Yes.”
Crow wanted desperation.
They would give him desperation.
Vernon Crow arrived at Hollow Creek the next afternoon.
News traveled quickly when someone wanted it to.
Nola made sure Amos’s wife—who loved gossip more faithfully than scripture—heard that Weston had worsened.
By noon, half the valley probably knew.
Crow came alone.
That surprised Nola.
Garrick met him on the porch.
Nola stood inside the kitchen where she could see through the window.
Crow removed his hat.
“Garrick.”
“Vernon.”
“Heard about the boy.”
“Heard correctly.”
“Wren doing what he can?”
Garrick’s hand flexed.
Nola watched.
Control.
He managed.
“For now.”
Crow looked toward the house.
His eyes lingered on the upstairs window.
Not grief.
Calculation.
Nola felt her skin crawl.
Crow sighed.
“Hard year.”