Kane turned toward him, still clutching Rachel’s arm. “This doesn’t concern you, Pastor.”
“It concerns the whole town when a man lays hands on a woman,” the pastor said.
A couple of heads turned from across the street. The shopkeeper, the blacksmith, the woman at the post office window—they were all watching. By the time Kane realized it, a few more people had stopped to watch.
Rachel couldn’t figure out if it was a good thing. Was she safe? Or was this going to make things worse in the long run?
What if Kane’s friends returned in the middle of the night?
“Let her go,” the pastor said again, quieter this time. His voice had that power that made people listen, the same tone he used from the pulpit when speaking about sin and justice.
“I said she’s coming with me,” Kane said. His jaw flexed, his face reddening beneath the tan. “She knows things that don’t belong getting spread around.”
“I don’t know anything that isn’t true,” Rachel said. “You just don’t want people hearing it.”
Kane’s eyes cut to her like knives. “You don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I understand plenty,” she said. “I understand you lied to everyone in this town.”
Murmurs began to spread through the onlookers. A few of the men took hesitant steps closer, as if preparing for something to go sideways.
One of them was Deputy Miles. He was the only lawman left in town with the sheriff gone to investigate up north. He leaned against the hitching post outside the saloon, his hand resting near his revolver.
“Let her talk,” Miles said, calm but alert. “She’s got the right to speak.”
Kane glared at him. “You think you can tell me what to do, Deputy?”
“I think,” Miles said, “I can tell when a man’s trying awful hard to stop the truth from getting out.”
Rachel yanked at her arm again. Kane’s grip slipped just enough for her to break free. She stumbled back, holding her wrist.
“You think I don’t know what you’ve done?” she said. “You think I didn’t hear you and Wilder’s men talking a few nights ago?”
The words dropped like a match into dry brush. The crowd hushed.
Everybody knew of Dean Wilder. He needed no introduction.
“Were you the one who burned that ranch too?” one man called out.
Kane’s eyes darted toward the voice. “That’s enough,” Kane snapped. “You people don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The deputy pushed off the hitching post and stepped forward, his boots crunching on the dry earth.
“Seems they know plenty,” he said. “You’d best start explaining.”
Kane straightened his vest, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You all think you’ve got this figured out, don’t you? That girl’s just repeating rumors. Wilder’s not here to defend himself.”
“Because he’s dead,” Rachel said.
Kane blinked. “What?”
“Dead,” she said again. “He’s gone, Kane. Blaze found him.”
It didn’t matter how far away Blaze was. News of a big shootout like that traveled fast. Law was already talking about it.
And Rachel happened to be a girl with a knack for eavesdropping.
The crowd stirred again, whispers rippling through. A couple of people gasped.
