Page 67

“Yet?”

Jesse wished he’d imagined that word.

“Worth more breathing, he said. If Rusk wanted the land.”

Eden wrote without interrupting.

Jesse kept hold of the memory. The wrong notes on the piano. Izzy’s tune continuing. The men in the hall. Then the first blow, coming from the side before he could raise a fist.

Crowley had seized a handful of his shirt. Jesse remembered the seam tearing at his collar.

“Tell your brother the offer won’t last,” the man had said. “Or don’t. Dead might speak louder.”

Jesse’s breath caught. He stopped there. His head throbbed, but the room stayed where it belonged.

Eden set down her pencil.

“May I read that back?”

He nodded.

She read the words carefully, separating what Izzy had told her from what Jesse now remembered. When she finished, she waited.

“That’s right,” he said.

“Then we have something Whit needs to hear.”

“Bass too.”

“He’s out with Whit.”

Jesse’s jaw tightened. “They’re riding around looking for thieves, and Crowley was using me to threaten my brother. This wasn’t some fight that got out of hand.”

“No.”

“Rusk wanted Bass frightened enough to sell.”

“That is what Crowley’s words suggest.”

Jesse could have told her he knew it, but she was being careful with his memories, giving a sheriff something he could use instead of a story that grew with each telling.

“Can you get word to ‘em?”

Eden glanced toward the rain-dark window. “Nate says we shouldn’t send anyone out until Whit sends word back. The roads are too dangerous.”

It was the right decision, and it left Jesse with nothing to do but pray.

He lay against the pillow while she closed the notebook. She could have carried it straight to Nate. Instead, she remained in her chair.

“Are you going to tell me not to worry?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t listen.”

“I’ve gathered that.”

He studied the shawl drying on the chair back. “You should’ve stayed at Marmee’s. Better company.”