Clara's voice dropped.
"And you watched?"
"I was crawling toward my gun."
"Did you watch?"
"Yes."
The single word tore something open inside her.
"What did Thomas say?"
Isaiah looked at her for a long moment.
"He told Dunn the papers were already gone."
Clara felt tears burn behind her eyes.
"They weren't."
"No."
"He lied."
"Yes."
"Then what?"
"Dunn shot him."
Clara turned away.
For four years, she had imagined Thomas dying frightened and alone beside an empty road.
She had imagined Isaiah searching his pockets.
Taking his money.
Leaving his body.
Now a different image replaced it.
Thomas standing in darkness.
Bleeding.
Protecting papers hidden beneath a floorboard where his wife would not discover them for four years.
Clara wiped her eyes angrily.
"Why didn't you come to me?"
Isaiah laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"By sunrise, I was wanted for Thomas's murder."
"You could have explained."
"To Sheriff Keene?"
Clara looked at him.
"He signed the warrant."
"Exactly."
She understood.
Sheriff Walter Keene ate dinner at Everett Carrow's house twice a month.
Clara had always thought it was because Carrow supported local law enforcement.
Now she wondered what support meant.
"Why didn't Thomas tell me any of this?"
Isaiah's expression softened slightly.
"Probably because he knew you."
"What does that mean?"
"He said you would try to help."
Clara almost laughed.
"That was his reason?"
"He thought it was a good one."
"It wasn't."
"No."
That answer surprised her.
Isaiah looked toward the ledger.
"Men decide they're protecting people when what they're really doing is taking away their choices."
Clara stared at him.
"You sound angry with him."
"I am."
"He died four years ago."
"Doesn't mean I stopped."
Something about the sentence made Clara trust him more than any declaration of friendship could have.
Outside, a horse snorted.
Isaiah immediately moved toward the window.
His entire posture changed.
Clara saw it.
"Someone there?"
"Maybe."
He extinguished the lamp.
Another sound.
Hoofbeats.
More than one horse.
Isaiah looked at Clara.
"How many men attacked you?"
"Four."
"Recognize any?"
"No."
"Did they see me find you?"