“Only if you’re a praying man,” Kristin said.
The sheriff turned to take his leave, but Logan stopped him. “One more thing before you go. Webb accused me of being the one who told you about the shipment. I wasn’t, of course. But it would help to know who really told you.”
“That’s confidential,” the sheriff said. “But it’s someone you know. If you think about it, you should be able to figure it out. He earned the reward and he’ll get it.”
Logan paused, then nodded. “I think I just did.”
“I’ll be leaving town once this case wraps up,” the sheriff said. “I hope you’ll let me know about Chase. I feel partly to blame for what happened.”
“You couldn’t have known about the boys,” Kristin said. “Of course, I’ll keep you informed.”
After the sheriff left, Kristin slipped back to the surgery to check on Chase. She walked in to find Webb standing by the table, slumped over his son. Was he praying or weeping? Maybe both.
“Any change?” She spoke softly, not wanting to startle him.
“Not yet.” He sounded broken.
Kristin moved beside him to check the boy’s vitals. His pulse and breathing were stable. But it was his brain that had to wake him up.
“Are you all right, Webb?” She’d jilted him cruelly. But she still cared about him. She could only hope he understood that.
His only answer was a deep sigh. “My father, the great Benteen Calder, always told me that what mattered most was the land—winning it, holding it, living for it, dying for it. He lied, Kristin. The most important thing of all is right here. Chase is all I’ll ever have of my Lilli. He’s my past and my future. If he doesn’t pull through, I’ll have nothing to live for. I might as well die right here in this room.”
“Don’t talk like that, Webb. His vital signs are stable. Give him time.” Kristin checked the dressing. “The sheriff was here. We asked him who claimed that thousand-dollar reward for alerting him about the shipment. He wouldn’t tell us, but he confirmed that Logan had nothing to do with it.”
“I know that now,” Webb said. “It had to be that little weasel, Angus O’Rourke. I should’ve guessed it when Joseph told me that O’Rourke and his son hadn’t shown up to help with the delivery. I wanted it to be Logan, damn it. I wanted a reason to hate him—a reason to kill him if my boy didn’t make it. But it would’ve been for nothing.”
“It was Logan who found Chase and brought him here,” Kristin said. “He saved your boy’s life.”
“Providing my boy lives.” Webb touched his son’s face below the gauze bandage that wrapped his head. His breath sounded like a sob being drawn inward. “Can we move him off that table now? He’d be more comfortable on the cot.”
“As long as we do it carefully,” Kristin said. “We can use that sheet underneath him like a hammock and carry him by both ends, then put him down slowly.”
“I’ll help.” Logan stepped in through the open doorway. “You take his head, Webb. I’ll take his feet.”
Working together, they lifted Chase in the sheet and carried him across the room to the cot Kristin kept for recovering patients. She went with them, supporting his head with her hands. “Slowly, now,” she said. “Don’t jar him.”
As they lowered Chase onto the pillow, they heard a groan and felt a stirring. Kristin’s lips moved in silent prayer. Thank you.
By the time they’d laid him down and pulled back the sheet, Chase’s blue eyes were open. “Dad?” he asked in a clear voice. “What’s going on?”
Tears were streaming down Webb’s cheeks. “You’re alive, son. That’s all that matters.”
Later that day
While his dad waited for him in the sheriff’s office, Joseph walked down the hall and into the jail area. There were three barred cells. Two of them were empty.
It had taken some fast talking to get permission for this visit. Joseph was in big trouble. He wouldn’t be going off to reform school, but he’d be confined to the ranch for the rest of the summer, forbidden to see anyone outside of his family. Still, he’d convinced Blake that he needed this one last visit with Mason. There were things he needed to say before he closed the book on this chapter of his life.
The man in the third cell was rumpled and unshaven, his chestnut hair falling over his bloodshot eyes. But he managed a smile as Joseph walked into sight. “Well, hello, son,” he said. “Did you come to break your old man out of here?”
Joseph stood a little straighter. He’d thought a lot about the words he was going to say. “I didn’t come to break you out. I’m not your son, and you’re not my old man. A real father wouldn’t teach his son to break the law or send him into danger, where he could get hurt, arrested, or even killed. I have a real father. His name is Blake Dollarhide.”
Surprise flashed across Mason’s face. “Then why are you here?”
“I came to say goodbye. When I first met you, I thought you were something special, like an adventurer or a movie hero. I would have done anything to please you, to have you call me your son. But I was wrong. You didn’t care about me or my friends. You used us and put us in danger. I’m glad you’re going to pay for it.”
Mason smiled. “Those are tough words coming from a sprout like you. It’ll be lonesome where I’m going. Will you at least write to me?”
“No. I don’t want to write to you. I want to forget all about you.”
His smile broadened. “You won’t forget me, son. You’ll remember me every time you look in the mirror and see those green eyes.”
His laughter followed Joseph all the way back to the sheriff’s office, where Blake was waiting for him. “I’m finished, Dad,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
They walked outside to the family Model T. Clouds had been roiling in from the west all day. Blake put the top up before he cranked the engine and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Didn’t you want to see your brother, Dad?” Joseph asked.
“Not after the harm he did to our family. Whatever I would have said, you said it for me. I’m proud of you, son.”
As they drove out of town, the first clap of thunder echoed across the sky. The first drops spattered the dust on the windscreen. With another thunderclap, the clouds split open, spilling their life-giving rain over the Montana prairie.
* * *
Kristin finished tidying her office and sank onto the sofa. It had been a long day. Chase’s recovery had gone so well that she’d allowed Webb to take the boy home on condition that he rest in bed. By then she’d had patients arriving. She’d cleaned up the blood in the surgery, ushered Logan out the door with orders to get some rest, and resumed her regular schedule.
She’d been so busy, and so tired from the long night, that she’d barely noticed the sound of thunder and the drumming on the roof. Even her windows were kept curtained for the privacy of her patients. Now she leaned back and let the sound wash over her. People would be celebrating all over the countryside. If Logan were here, she would celebrate with him. But she had sent him away.