Anthony shook his head. “Nope. You’ve earned the right to grumble.”
“You’ve survived not just the battle for Eagle Rock but the corruption and treachery surrounding it,” the judge said. “That alone is a testament to your skill, determination, and...perhaps your luck.”
“Skill, sure,” Anthony said. “Determination, absolutely. Luck...maybe enough to keep breathing.”
“I’d call it more than luck,” Abigail added. “Anthony has a way of surviving where others wouldn’t.”
Anthony’s eyes flicked to hers, a faint softness in their depths. “Maybe. Maybe.”
The judge laid the deeds carefully into Anthony’s hands, sealing the official moment with a weight of authority. Anthony felt the gravity of it settle in. This was more than land, more than property. It was justice finally delivered.
After Judge Mayflower left town with his group of lawmen, the trio stayed on the sheriff’s porch. The documents were sitting on Anthony’s lap.
He couldn’t believe he had them.
The sun dipped lower, painting the town in an orange hue. Silver Cross had survived. Eagle Rock was theirs.
Anthony leaned back against the porch railing, the deeds resting in his lap, and let himself take a long, deep breath. Abigail and Brigg were beside him. They were reminders that survival and trust had carried them through fire and blood.
“Ready for the next chapter?” Abigail asked softly, her eyes glinting with humor.
Anthony looked out across the valley; the weight of responsibility was heavy but tempered by the tangible proof in his hands. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I think we’re ready.”
Epilogue
Eagle Rock, Colorado, June 28, 1877
A year had passed since the desert dust had swallowed the echoes of Vanburgh’s reign, and Eagle Rock had begun to breathe again. The valley stretched out before Anthony as he stood on the gentle slope above the claim. The sun warmed his back and glinted off the sparse golden veins that ran through the rock.
The air smelled of sage and pine, carrying the faint laughter of Shoshone children chasing each other along the edges of the camp below.
Anthony adjusted the brim of his hat, squinting down at the worksite. The miners had already started their morning shift with pans in hand. He had insisted on leaving the springs untouched, honoring the land that had been sacred long before his family’s claim had been mapped.
Water ran pure, and the Shoshone had guided him in placing the sluices so that the gold could be extracted respectfully.
Beside him, Abigail adjusted her sleeves, brushing dust from her apron. The soft sunlight caught her hair, and Anthony’s chest tightened slightly. He had married her not long after the deeds had been signed. The legal ownership of Eagle Rock now matched the ownership of his heart.
She had a way of moving through the valley with authority tempered by grace, and even after the chaos of the previous years, she seemed unshakable.
“You’ve been quiet this morning,” she said, tilting her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “Thinking about gold again?”
Anthony chuckled, the sound rough yet light. “Not gold,” he said. “Thinking about how quiet it is. How...right it feels.”
She smiled, reaching over to squeeze his arm. “You’ve worked hard for this, Hawk,” she said. “We’ve all worked hard. And now it’s ours...finally, for good.”
He nodded, letting his gaze wander over the valley. The Shoshone had returned in strength. Red Hawk and Black Wolf were overseeing the sluices, teaching the miners techniques that had been passed down for generations, ensuring that the gold was harvested without destroying the surrounding ecosystem.
Anthony had insisted on that from the beginning. He had taken enough from the land in his youth and lost enough of it to greed and corruption to know the difference between stewardship and exploitation.
“Gold won’t run away,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But the springs...they’re forever. The land comes first.”
Abigail gave him a small, approving nod. “And the gold comes second, which is exactly where it belongs. How’s the claim looking?”
Anthony gestured toward the main sluice line. The glinting rocks and cleanly washed pans testified to months of careful work.
“Better than I thought it could be,” he said. “We’ve got more than enough to split evenly, and I don’t see any of it going missing. Not while the Shoshone are around.”
He smiled faintly as he watched Red Hawk lean over a sluice, showing a miner how to direct the water flow to catch the finest flecks of gold.
