He gestured to a couple of men in the crowd, and together they got Jacob on his feet and half carried, half dragged him back to the boarding house.

They laid him on a bed in one of the empty rooms.

And Doc Howerin shued everyone out except Eliza.

“I need clean water, bandages, and whiskey if you’ve got it,” Doc said, already cutting away Jacob’s shirt to get at the wound properly.

“And I need it fast.

” “He’s not dying, but he will if we don’t stop this bleeding.

” Eliza ran to fetch the supplies, her mind spinning.

Jacob had been shot.

He’d been out there somewhere while the killers were being killed and someone had put a bullet in him.

That could mean he’d done the killing and gotten hurt in the process, or it could mean he’d been there for some other reason and gotten caught up in violence that wasn’t his making.

Either way, he was in trouble.

And so was she by association.

She returned with the water and bandages to find Doc working quickly, his earlier tremor gone completely now that he was focused on the task at hand.

Jacob was conscious but barely responsive, his face the color of old bone.

“Talk to me,” Doc said as he worked.

“Keep him awake.

Blood loss can make a man drift off, and I need him alert.

” Eliza sat beside the bed, took Jacob’s hand in hers.

It was cold despite the growing heat of the day.

“Jacob,” she said, “Can you hear me?” His eyes tracked to her face, struggled to focus.

Eliza,” he managed.

His voice was rough, tight with pain.

“What happened?” she asked, then immediately regretted it.

“That wasn’t keeping him awake.

That was interrogating him.

” “Never mind.

Don’t talk.

Just stay with me.

” “Just have to,” Jacob said.

“Anyway, have to tell you.

Tell me later when you’re No.

” He gripped her hand with surprising strength.

Now, in case, he broke off, hissing as Doc probed the wound.

Entry and exit both clean, Doc muttered more to himself than to them.

Lucky few inches to the left and it would have hit something vital.

Jacob, please, Eliza said, just rest.

But Jacob shook his head slightly, his jaw set.

The Kellers, he said, didn’t kill them.

Wasn’t me.

Then who did? Marshalss.

Jacob’s breathing was shallow, labored.

Territorial marshals been tracking them for months.

Murder, robbery, worse.

Had warrants.

Eliza’s mind reeled.

Marshalss killed them.

Ambushed them out on the mining road.

Jacob said, “I was following.

Wanted to make sure they weren’t circling back to your place.

Saw the whole thing go down.

Then one of them spotted me.

The marshals shot you? Jacob’s laugh was bitter and short.

No, someone else.

Someone working with the Kellers I didn’t know about.

Got me in the confusion, then ran.

Marshalls were too busy with the bodies to chase.

Doc was wrapping bandages now, working quickly.

The story going to check out? He asked without looking up.

Should Jacob said Marshalss will still be there processing the scene.

They’ll confirm if they’re legitimate marshals and not just more men with guns in a story, Doc said skeptically.

They’re legitimate, Jacob said.

I recognized one of them, worked with him before.

Eliza caught that detail, filed it away, worked with him before.

What exactly had Jacob’s past involved that he’d worked with territorial marshals? Why didn’t you stay? She asked.

Why didn’t you talk to them? Jacob’s eyes met hers.

And for the first time, she saw real fear there.

Not for himself, for her.

Because the men the Kellers were working for don’t know they’re dead yet, he said quietly.

And when they find out, they’re going to come looking for answers, for revenge.

And anyone connected to the Kellers.

Anyone who stood up to them, anyone they threatened is going to be a target.

The implications crashed over Eliza like a cold wave.

You’re saying I’m in danger? We’re both in danger,” Jacob corrected.

“The marshals taking down the Kellers was supposed to be quiet, quick, but with me seeing it, with this wound, with the whole town now talking, word’s going to spread.

And when it does, people are going to come asking questions.

” “What people?” Doc demanded, finishing his bandaging and straightening up.

“Who exactly were the Kellers working for?” Jacob closed his eyes for a moment, and Elijah could see him, weighing what to say.

How much to reveal.

Men with money and reach, he said finally.

Men who use people like the Kellers to do their dirty work so their own hands stay clean.

I don’t know names don’t know faces.

But I know they exist, and I know they don’t leave loose ends.

And you’re a loose end, Eliza said softly.

We both are.

Jacob’s grip on her hand tightened again.

I’m sorry.

I thought I was helping.

Thought if I watched them, if I made sure they didn’t come back for you, that would be enough.

But I made it worse.

I put you right in the middle of something you should never have been part of.

I was already in the middle of it, Eliza said.

The moment they walked into my stable, I was involved.

You didn’t put me anywhere.

They did.

Doc Howerin straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag.

He’ll live, provided he rests and doesn’t tear these stitches.

But he’s going to be weak for a few days, and he shouldn’t be moved more than necessary.

“Thank you, Doc,” Eliza said.

“Don’t thank me yet.

” Doc looked between them, his expression troubled.

“Marshall Wyatt is going to want to talk to him, and once he does, this whole story is going to come out.

The marshals, the ambush, all of it.

You two need to decide what you’re going to do about that.

” He left then, closing the door behind him, and Eliza was alone with Jacob in the small room that smelled of blood and whiskey and fear.

“You should leave,” Jacob said after a moment.

“Pack a bag, get on the next stage, disappear.

They don’t know you.

Don’t have any reason to connect you to me beyond me staying here.

If you go now, you might be able to stay ahead of it.

” “And what about you? I’ll manage.

” But even as he said it, Eliza could see the lie in it.

He was wounded, weak, barely able to stand.

He wouldn’t manage.

He’d be a sitting target for whoever came looking.

“No,” Eliza said.

Jacob’s eyes opened, focused on her.

“No, I’m not running.

Not from my home, not for my life, and not from whatever trouble you’ve landed in.

We face it together, or we don’t face it at all.

” “You don’t understand what you’re saying,” Jacob protested.

These aren’t men like the Kellers, small-time thugs with more violence than sense.

These are people with resources, connections.

They can reach anywhere, hurt anyone.

Then we’ll have to be smarter than they are,” Eliza said with more confidence than she felt.

“You said yourself, I have steel in me.

Time to prove you right.

” Jacob stared at her for a long moment, and something shifted in his expression.

Respect, maybe, or recognition.

You sure about this? No, Eliza admitted.

But I’m sure I’m not leaving you to face it alone.

A ghost of a smile touched Jacob’s lips.

Stubborn.

You have no idea.

The sound of boots on the stairs interrupted whatever Jacob might have said next.

A knock on the door, then Tom Wyatt’s voice.

Miss Moore, I need to talk to Hail now.

Eliza looked at Jacob, who nodded slightly.

She crossed to the door, opened it to find Tom standing there with his hat in his hands, his expression weary.

“How is he?” Tom asked.

“Alive, weak.

” Doc says he needs rest.

“I’m sure he does.

” Tom moved past her into the room, pulled up a chair beside the bed.

“But I’ve got four dead men and a wounded stranger, and I need answers before this town tears itself apart with rumors.

” Jacob struggled to sit up, wincing.

Eliza moved to help him, propping pillows behind his back.

I’ll tell you what I can, Marshall, but I don’t know if you’re going to like it.

Try me, Tom said.

So, Jacob told him about following the Kellers, about seeing the Marshals ambush them, about the unknown shooter who’d put a bullet in him.

He left out some details, didn’t mention working with marshals before, didn’t speculate too much about who the Kellers had been working for, but he gave enough that Tom’s face grew progressively more troubled.

Territorial marshals, Tom said when Jacob finished.

You’re telling me there’s a federal operation happening in my jurisdiction, and nobody thought to inform me.

They probably didn’t want word getting out, Jacob said.

The Kellers had friends, connections.

Couldn’t risk them getting wind and running.

Well, they got wind anyway, it seems.

Tom stood, paced to the window and back.

This is a mess.

A damned mess.

I’ve got bodies to deal with, questions from the territorial government, and now you’re telling me there’s more trouble coming down the pike.

I’m telling you to be careful, Jacob said.

Watch who you talk to, who you trust.

If there’s someone in town connected to the people the Kellers worked for, they’re going to be watching, listening.

Tom’s jaw tightened.

You think there’s someone here in Redemption Gulch? I think it’s possible, Jacob said carefully.

The Kellers didn’t just operate on their own.

They had to have information, knew which properties to target, which people to pressure.

Someone was feeding them that information.

The implications of that hung heavy in the room.

Eliza felt a chill despite the growing heat.

someone in town, someone they knew might have been working with the Kellers all along, and that someone would now know the Kellers were dead, would be wondering what happened, would be looking for answers, and maybe for revenge.

Do you have any idea who, Tom asked? No, Jacob said.

But if I had to guess, I’d look at someone with access to property records, tax information, financial details, someone who’d know who was struggling, who was vulnerable.

Tom’s face went pale.

Henry Beck, he said quietly.

He’s the unofficial assessor for this area.

Keeps records.

Knows everyone’s business.

Could be, Jacob said.

Or could be someone else entirely.

I’m just guessing.

But Eliza could see the pieces falling into place in Tom’s mind, the connections being made.

Henry Beck, who’d been so quick to accuse Jacob, who’d always had an opinion about who should be run out of town and who should be left alone.

Henry Beck, who’d never much liked Eliza or her father, who’d been happy to see them struggle.

“I need to think about this,” Tom said finally.

“And I need to talk to these marshals if they’re still in the area.

In the meantime, Hail, you don’t leave town.

And Miss Moore, you keep your eyes open.

If what you’re saying is true, you’re both in danger until we figure out who’s behind this.

” “We know,” Eliza said quietly.

Tom left, his boot heels heavy on the stairs.

Eliza closed the door behind him and leaned against it, suddenly exhausted.

The morning had started with terrible news and gotten progressively worse.

Four men were dead, Jacob was wounded, and somewhere out there were people who meant them harm.

“You should still leave,” Jacob said from the bed.

His eyes were closed, his face tight with pain despite the ldinum Doc had given him.

“It’s not too late.

” “Yes, it is,” Eliza said.

It was too late the moment they walked into my stable.

I’m in this now.

For better or worse.

She crossed back to the bed, sat in the chair Tom had vacated.

Jacob’s breathing had grown slower, deeper.

The ldum was taking hold, pulling him down into sleep.

Eliza, he murmured, already half gone.

I’m here.

Thank you for not running, for his words trailed off into nothing.

rest,” Eliza said softly.

“I’ll keep watch.

” And she did.

Sat there beside his bed as the morning bled into afternoon.

As the heat built and the town outside went about its business of processing the violent deaths of four men nobody would mourn.

She watched Jacob sleep, saw the pain lines in his face, relaxed slightly as the medicine did its work.

Three days passed in a strange sort of limbo.

Jacob recovered slowly, his strength returning by inches.

The territorial marshals came through, confirmed his story, took statements, and asked questions that Tom Wyatt didn’t have good answers for.

They were polite but distant, professional men doing a job they clearly wanted finished as quickly as possible.

They told Tom that the Kellers had been wanted for three murders, two bank robberies, and a string of assaults across two territories.

They’d been tracking them for 6 months, waiting for the right moment to make their move.

The fact that Jacob had witnessed the takedown was unfortunate but not disastrous.

They took his statement, warned him to keep his mouth shut about the details, and left town as quietly as they had arrived.

But their presence had been noticed.

Word spread, and with it came questions, suspicions, fears.

Henry Beck closed his store for 2 days, claiming illness.

When he reopened, he was quiet and withdrawn, jumping at shadows.

Tom Wyatt watched him, but made no accusations, not without proof.

The other borders at Eliza’s place gave Jacob a wide birth, spoke to him in careful, neutral tones, like he was something wild that might bite if startled.

The surveyor checked out early, muttering about schedule changes.

The ranch hands stayed but stopped eating at the common table, took their meals in their rooms instead.

And through it all, Eliza kept the boarding house running, kept her head down, and tried to pretend that everything was normal when nothing felt normal anymore.

On the fourth morning after the shooting, she woke to find Jacob dressed and standing by the window of his room, looking out at the street below.

“You shouldn’t be up,” she said from the doorway.

“Can’t lie in bed forever,” Jacob replied without turning.

His voice was stronger now, though he still moved carefully, favoring his wounded side.

Besides, staying in one place too long makes me nervous.

The marshals said to stay put.

The marshals left.

Jacob finally turned to face her, and they took their protection with them.

We’re on our own now.

So, what do we do? Jacob was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, “I have to leave tonight, maybe tomorrow, before whoever’s looking for answers finds me.

” Eliza’s stomach dropped.

She’d known this was coming, had seen it building in the way Jacob watched the street, the way his hand would drift to where his gun would be if he wore it openly.

But hearing him say it made it real in a way she’d been avoiding.

Where will you go? North, probably.

Colorado, maybe Montana.

somewhere far enough that they won’t think to look.

And what about me? The question came out smaller than she’d intended.

Jacob crossed to her, moved with care, but with purpose.

You stay here.

Keep your head down.

In a few weeks, this will all blow over, and you can go back to your life.

My life? Eliza repeated.

You mean running a boarding house in a dying town, waiting for the next group of men with guns to decide I’m easy prey? It’s better than being hunted across two territories, Jacob said quietly.

Is it? Eliza met his eyes.

Because from where I’m standing, neither option looks particularly appealing.

Jacob studied her, and she could see him working through something, some calculation or decision.

“What are you saying?” “I’m saying maybe I don’t want to stay here,” Eliza said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

Maybe I want to go somewhere new.

Somewhere I’m not just my father’s daughter running his failed business.

Somewhere I can be something more than alone and afraid.

Eliza, take me with you, she said, and was shocked at her own boldness.

When you leave, let me come.

I can help.

I can work.

I can No.

Jacob’s voice was firm.

Absolutely not.

You don’t know what you’re asking.

I know exactly what I’m asking.

Eliza shot back.

I’m asking for a chance, a choice, something other than waiting here for the next disaster to find me.

Running with me is the disaster, Jacob said.

I’ve got enemies I can’t name.

Chasing debts I can’t pay.

That’s no life for anyone.

Especially not Especially not a woman, Eliza finished.

Because I’m too delicate, too weak.

Because you deserve better, Jacob said.

And there was something raw in his voice now.

You deserve to stay here in your home with your business and build a life that’s yours.

Not running, not hiding, not looking over your shoulder every minute of every day.

That’s not living.

That’s survival.

And I won’t drag you into it.

They stood there in the small room, the morning light falling between them, and Eliza felt something crack open in her chest.

He was right, of course.

Going with him would be madness.

But staying felt like a different kind of madness.

the slow, grinding kind that wore you down year by year until there was nothing left but regret and might have been.

Then I’ll sell the boarding house, she heard herself say.

Sell it, take what I can get, and start fresh somewhere else on my own terms.

Jacob looked at her like she’d just announced plans to walk into a lion’s den.

You don’t mean that, don’t I? Eliza moved past him to the window, looked out at the town she’d known all her adult life.

What’s keeping me here? Really? Memories of my father? This place killed him with worry and debt.

Responsibility to a business that barely breaks even.

Pride and ownership of property that’s more burden than blessing.

Tell me, Jacob, what am I fighting so hard to hold on to? He had no answer for that because there wasn’t a good one.

I’m not asking you to take care of me, Eliza said, still looking out at the dusty street.

I’m not asking you to protect me or save me or any of that romantic nonsense.

I’m just saying that if you’re leaving and I’m leaving, maybe we’re better off leaving together than alone.

Safety and numbers, even if the number is only two.

Jacob was quiet for so long that Eliza thought he might not respond at all.

Then he said, “You’d give up everything, your home, your business, your whole life here.

” For a chance at something different? Elijah turned back to face him.

Yes.

Without hesitation, something shifted in Jacob’s expression.

Then the guardedness eased just slightly, enough that she could see the man beneath the walls he’d built.

“You’re certain?” “I’m terrified,” Eliza admitted.

“But I’m certain.

” Jacob nodded slowly like he was accepting something inevitable.

“All right.

If you’re sure, if you really mean this, we leave together.

But not tonight.

We need supplies, a plan, horses that can make distance.

That takes time.

” How much time? 3 days.

Jacob said, “Maybe four.

” And you can’t tell anyone.

Not the marshall, not your borders, no one.

The moment word gets out that we’re leaving together, people will talk.

And talk draws attention.

I understand.

And once we go, Jacob continued, his voice serious.

There’s no coming back.

Not for a long time, maybe never.

You need to be ready for that.

Ready to leave everything behind and not look back.

Eliza thought about the boarding house with its sagging porch and leaking roof.

Thought about the graves in the town cemetery where her parents lay side by side.

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