“That so? A mighty strong claim.” He tapped the papers with a stubby finger. “And you believe this is sufficient to prove ownership?”
“It is the law,” Abigail said. “My father’s signature, the seal of the notary, and the trusteeship outlined here. By law, it cannot be challenged.”
Anthony cut in, his tone flat but firm. “The land was stolen, Judge,” he added. “Vanburgh never had a rightful claim. These papers prove it.”
The judge’s lips twitched, curling toward a smile. “Mr. Hawk, you come here accusing a man who’s brought jobs, rail, and coin to this county,” he said. “You best have more than a pile of old papers.”
“It’s more than papers,” Anthony pressed. “It’s truth. If law means anything here, you’ll recognize it.”
Judge Harper chuckled, the sound low and oily. “Law?” He spread his hands wide. “Son, law ain’t words on paper. Law is what men agree it is. And in this court, I say what stands.”
Silence fell heavily around them. Abigail’s lips parted, ready to fire back, but her words caught. Anthony brushed her arm to steady her before turning his gaze back on the judge.
“Are you laughing at justice, Judge?” he asked.
Harper leaned forward on his elbows. “I’m laughin’ at fools who think ink can stop progress,” he replied. “The railroad is comin’. Folks here know it means trade, a future. And you’d stand in the way of that? You’ll find no sympathy in this room.”
From the benches came whispers. They were louder now.
“He’s right.”
“No, Vanburgh’s rotten.”
“Quiet, they’ll hear you.”
Abigail’s voice finally broke through, sharp and clear. “So, you admit it,” she said. “You’ve chosen Vanburgh’s side. This isn’t justice. It’s corruption.”
The judge’s face flushed red. “Careful, Doctor. Another word like that, and I’ll hold you in contempt.”
Anthony stepped closer to the bench with his shoulders squared. “You can sneer all you like, Judge,” he said. “But this land ain’t Vanburgh’s...and no bought court will make it so.”
A deputy stirred, hand near his revolver. The benches hushed. Anthony didn’t flinch. His eyes were locked on Harper.
Finally, the judge waved his hand. “Enough. Case dismissed. Get out before I decide to make an example of you.”
Abigail’s cheeks burned with fury, but Anthony guided her toward the door. She resisted, wanting to argue, but the smug curl of Harper’s mouth told her it was pointless.
Outside, sunlight struck harsh after the courthouse gloom. Townsfolk spilled out behind them, muttering. Anthony caught too many eyes lingering, heavy with judgment or fear. His gaze swept the street, and there they were.
Two of Vanburgh’s men leaned against the saloon post. Another lounged near the blacksmith’s. All of them pretended tohave nothing better to do, but their eyes tracked Anthony and Abigail with sharp calculation.
It was easy to tell them apart from the locals. It was the way they stood. The clothes they wore. They were just...different.
On top of it all, they had an aura about them. An aura that screamed they were hired guns.
They followed them all the way to Dry Creek. They must have had eyes on Anthony and Abigail ever since the clinic.
“That was a farce,” Abigail said, breaking the silence first. “He never even looked at the evidence.”
Anthony’s hand hovered near his holster as he scanned the street. “Harper’s been in Vanburgh’s pocket longer than I’ve been breathing. This was never about law.”
She stopped him short, her eyes blazing. “Then what now? We can’t just walk away.”
“We don’t walk away,” he replied. “We find another way.”
“Another way?” Abigail asked, clearly frustrated. “What does that mean? You think bullets will solve what courts won’t? My father believed in law. He left those papers because he trusted it.”
Anthony leaned in, voice low.
