“She said, ‘Gideon didn’t kill Mara. Find the Voss girl before Bell does.’”

Silence.

Lydia stared at him.

“You knew Bell.”

“I knew the name.”

“You knew he was connected.”

“I suspected.”

“And when he came to the cabin?”

“I became certain.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was afraid.”

“Of Bell?”

“No.”

His eyes met hers.

“Of what you would think of me.”

That hurt worse.

Lydia whispered, “You trusted me with a gun.”

“Yes.”

“With your life.”

“Yes.”

“But not with the truth.”

Rowan had no defense.

She placed the pendant on the table.

“I need air.”

“Lydia.”

She walked away.

He didn’t call after her again.

Because he had taught her that a closed door meant stop.

And now the door was hers.

12
Lydia spent the day in the county records office.

She read until the letters blurred.

Mara Voss.

Gideon Creed.

Silas Bell.

Pine Valley.

Parcel transfers.

Tax sales.

Guardianship documents.

Every lie had been written in respectable ink.

At sunset Harker brought her another box of files.

“Found these in Bell’s office.”

“You searched it?”

“Judge Merritt did.”

“Why?”

Harker gave a grim smile.

“Bell tried leaving town.”

Inside the box were company letters.

Most were routine.

Then Lydia found one dated eight years earlier.

To S. Bell.

The Creed woman has located the Voss papers. Stop her before she reaches the territorial clerk.

No signature.

Only initials.

A.V.

Amos Voss.

Lydia stared.

Her father.

Another letter.

Girl remains under control. She remembers little. Do not approach until the Black Pine papers are recovered.

Another.

Creed’s son has begun asking questions. Use the fire if necessary.

Lydia went cold.

Her father had ordered the attack that killed Evelyn.

She nearly dropped the paper.

Harker read over her shoulder.

“Jesus.”

Lydia looked at him.

“My father said he didn’t kill my mother.”

“Men lie.”

“But why lie about that and admit everything else?”

Harker frowned.

“You think he didn’t?”

“I think there’s one truth he’s more afraid of than prison.”

They returned to Amos.

This time Lydia placed the letters on the table.

“You killed Evelyn Creed.”

Amos’s face collapsed.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You ordered the fire.”

“Bell handled it.”

“You ordered it.”

Amos looked sick.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

Lydia laughed once.

It sounded ugly.

“From what?”

“Your mother.”

The room went silent.

Lydia stared.

Amos whispered, “Mara wasn’t who you think.”

“You forged my death certificate.”

“Yes.”

“You sold her land.”

“Yes.”

“You kept me poor.”

“Yes.”

“You had men attack Rowan and his wife.”

He looked away.

“Yes.”

“And you’re going to tell me you did that to protect me?”

Amos’s eyes filled with something Lydia had never expected to see.

Tears.

“Because Mara was going to take you to Gideon Creed.”

Lydia shook her head.

“Why?”

“Because he was your father.”

Everything stopped.

No.

The thought arrived before words.

No.

Amos continued.

“I married Mara when you were two.”

Lydia couldn’t feel her hands.

“You are not my father.”

“I raised you.”

“You sold me.”

His face twisted.

“I hated Creed. Hated all of them.”

Lydia stood so quickly the chair fell.

Amos grabbed for her.

The chain stopped him.

“Mara loved Gideon before me. He left her. Then he came back after you were born.”

Lydia’s ears rang.

“Stop.”

“She planned to tell you.”

“Stop.”

“She planned to leave me.”

“STOP!”

Harker entered.

Lydia backed toward the wall.

If Gideon Creed was her father—

Rowan Creed was—

She couldn’t finish the thought.

Amos saw the horror on her face.

And smiled.

A terrible, broken smile.

“Now you understand.”

Lydia stumbled from the room.

She ran to the jail.

Rowan stood when he saw her.

“What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t speak.

He reached for the bars.

“Lydia?”

She looked at his face.

Dark hair.

Brown eyes.

Creed.

Her stomach turned.

“Gideon Creed.”

Rowan frowned.

“What about him?”

“My father says Gideon was my father.”

Rowan stopped moving.

The color drained from his face.

Lydia whispered, “Tell me he’s lying.”

Rowan’s mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

And that was worse than any answer.

13
Judge Merritt ordered blood relation testimony from the oldest people who had known Mara.

There was no blood test.

No laboratory.

Only records, witnesses, dates, letters.

For two days Lydia and Rowan did not touch.

They barely looked at one another.

Everything that had grown between them became unbearable.

If Gideon Creed was Lydia’s father, Rowan would be her half-brother.

The thought made Lydia physically ill.

Rowan stayed in custody.

Not because anyone thought he would run.

Because he asked to.

“I need walls,” he told Harker.

On the third day an elderly midwife named Ruth Calder came to town from Fort Ellis.

She had delivered Lydia.

She remembered Mara.

She remembered Gideon.

She remembered Amos.

Judge Merritt asked, “Was Gideon Creed Lydia Voss’s father?”

Ruth looked toward Lydia.

“No.”

Lydia almost collapsed.

Rowan closed his eyes.

Amos shouted, “She’s lying!”

Ruth turned toward him.

“I warned Mara not to marry you.”

“You old—”

Harker restrained him.

Judge Merritt raised a hand.

“Then who was Lydia’s father?”

Ruth’s expression changed.

“That I don’t know.”

Amos laughed.

“Convenient.”

Ruth ignored him.

“Mara was already carrying Lydia when she met Gideon Creed.”

Lydia stared.

“But Amos believed—”

“Amos believed what Mara wanted him to believe.”

“Why?”

Ruth looked at the papers.

“Because Gideon was helping her.”

“With what?”

“Escape.”

The story unfolded.

Mara had inherited Black Pine from her own father.

Amos courted her because of the land.

After they married, he became violent.

By the time Lydia was six, Mara was trying to leave.

Gideon Creed—already infamous in the territory—had once tried purchasing Black Pine.

Mara refused.

But Gideon discovered Amos was forging debts against the property.

For reasons Ruth never understood, Gideon chose to help Mara.

“He wasn’t a good man,” Ruth said. “But bad men sometimes do one good thing.”

Gideon arranged legal papers transferring Black Pine solely to Lydia if Mara died.

Amos discovered the plan.

He spread the rumor that Lydia was Gideon’s illegitimate daughter.

Mara encouraged the rumor because Amos feared Gideon’s retaliation.

“He believed Creed would kill him if he harmed the child,” Ruth said.

Amos shouted, “He would have!”

Ruth faced him.

“Good.”

The courtroom murmured.

Judge Merritt asked, “How did Mara die?”

Ruth looked toward Amos.

“I’ve wondered twenty years.”

Amos said nothing.

Lydia stood.

“Did he kill her?”

Ruth’s eyes softened.

“I don’t know.”

Then another voice came from the back.

“I do.”

Everyone turned.

Silas Bell stood between two deputies.

His face looked ten years older.

He had negotiated.

Everyone knew it.

Bell looked at Amos.

“Mara’s wagon didn’t crash.”

Amos lunged so hard his chair toppled.

Bell continued.

“Amos cut the brake line.”

Lydia stopped breathing.

“No.”

Bell stared at the floor.

“He needed her dead before she reached Helena.”

Amos screamed, “LIAR!”

Bell’s voice shook.

“He paid me twenty dollars to delay the investigation.”