Chapter 5 - The Man Elias Could Not Save
For seven years Elias Ward had remembered Samuel Pike falling backward.
He remembered the muzzle flash.
He remembered the gunshot echoing between buildings.
He remembered Samuel striking the dirt.
What he had not remembered—what guilt had somehow erased—was the blood already soaking Samuel's shirt.
Now the memory returned in pieces.
Samuel stumbling from the alley.
One hand pressed against his ribs.
The knife in the other.
Elias shouting.
Samuel trying to speak.
Then movement.
Elias firing.
Tala sat across the campfire.
Through Aayoka, she told the rest.
Years earlier, Samuel Pike had discovered that his father was helping Rourke sell stolen weapons.
Samuel had secretly tried to warn several Apache families likely to be blamed when the weapons disappeared.
Tala had met him twice.
On the final night, Samuel planned to give evidence to Deputy Elias Ward.
Rourke learned of it.
He confronted Samuel behind the saloon.
There was a fight.
Rourke stabbed him.
Samuel escaped.
He staggered into the street carrying the knife he had pulled from his own body.
Then Elias saw him.
“Drop it!”
Samuel tried to speak.
Elias fired.
The bullet hit Samuel in the shoulder.
It was the stab wound that killed him.
But Rourke and Harlan Pike made certain nobody examined the story too carefully.
Harlan publicly blamed Elias.
Rourke's secret remained safe.
Elias stood and walked away from the fire.
Aayoka followed several minutes later.
She found him beside a dry cottonwood.
“You did not kill?”
“I shot him.”
“But Rourke—”
“I shot him.”
“He dying.”
“I didn't know.”
Aayoka studied him.
“That matters.”
“Not to Samuel.”
“No.”
Her answer surprised him.
She did not offer easy forgiveness.
Instead she sat beside him.
After a while, she said, “But truth matters living.”
Elias looked at her.
“That's why Rourke wants the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“And why we're going to Prescott.”
Aayoka hesitated.
Then nodded.
They reached the outskirts three days later.
Elias had not seen Prescott in years.
The town looked both smaller and larger than memory.
New buildings stood beside familiar ones.
Children ran across streets where Elias remembered drunken fights.
The sheriff's office remained in the same place.
But Elias did not go there.
The ledger contained names of officials.
They needed someone outside Rourke's influence.
Elias remembered Judge Nathaniel Bell.
Bell had once told Elias that a badge did not make a man honest; it only made his dishonesty more dangerous.
If Bell was still alive, Elias would trust him.
They found him in a modest house near the church.
Bell opened the door.
He was seventy now.
White-haired.
Bent slightly with age.
He stared at Elias for a long time.
“Well,” he said. “The dead do occasionally come home.”
Elias showed him the ledger.
Bell's humor disappeared.
For two hours, they examined it.
Bell confirmed several signatures.
“This could hang men.”
“Can it clear the Apache families blamed for Dry Creek?”
“If we have witnesses.”
Elias gestured toward Tala.
Bell nodded.
“And Samuel Pike?”
Bell looked at him.
“That may be harder.”
“I don't care about clearing my name.”
Bell studied him.
“Yes, you do.”
Elias looked away.
“There's no shame in wanting the truth.”
Before Elias could answer, glass shattered.
Bell shouted.
A burning bottle landed inside the room.
Fire spread across the rug.
“Out!”
Smoke filled the house.
Elias grabbed the ledger.
Jeb helped Bell.
Aayoka guided Tala and Keme through the back.
They escaped seconds before flames reached the curtains.
Across the street, a rider disappeared.
Rourke.
Bell coughed.
“He knows you're here.”
“No,” Elias said.
He looked at the burning house.
“He knew we were coming.”
Someone had warned him.
Which meant Rourke's influence reached deeper into Prescott than they realized.
Then a voice came from behind them.
“Elias Ward.”
Elias turned.
Harlan Pike stood in the street.
Samuel's father had aged badly.
His face was narrow.
His hair nearly white.
But the hatred in his eyes had not changed.
“You should've stayed gone.”
Elias stepped toward him.
“You knew Samuel was dying before I shot him.”
Harlan's expression flickered.
Only once.
But Elias saw it.
“You knew,” Elias repeated.
Harlan said nothing.
“You let me carry it.”
“Carry what?”
“Your son's death.”
Harlan's jaw tightened.
“You pulled the trigger.”
“And Rourke put the knife in him.”
Aayoka watched Harlan.
His eyes shifted toward her.
Recognition.
Then fear.
That was enough.
Harlan turned.
Elias caught his arm.
“Where's Rourke?”
Harlan pulled free.
“You think that ledger will save you?”
Elias went still.
He had never mentioned the ledger.
Harlan realized his mistake.
Too late.
Judge Bell heard it too.
“Harlan,” Bell said quietly, “I believe you and I should have a conversation.”
Harlan ran.
Jeb tackled him before he reached his horse.
A crowd gathered.
Then the sheriff arrived with four deputies.
For one hopeful second, Elias believed the law had finally arrived.
Then every deputy drew a gun.
But they pointed them at Elias.
Sheriff Colton said, “Elias Ward, you're under arrest.”
“For what?”
“Murder.”
Elias almost laughed.
“Whose?”
Colton looked directly at Aayoka.
“Silas Rourke's.”
Aayoka's face went blank.
Elias stared at the sheriff.
Rourke had been alive minutes earlier.
But somewhere in Prescott, a body had apparently been found.
May you like
And once again, someone had decided Elias Ward was the perfect man to blame.
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