Then he began. I held Nia's hand. Jeb kept the lamp steady. Only the doctor's clipped instructions broke the silence. More water.
Hand me the forceps. Now the bandage. After what felt like an eternity, Doc Boon released a quiet breath. He inserted the forceps one final time. Then he lifted out the bloodstained bullet.
It struck the table with a metallic sound. It's out. No one spoke. Only after he finished closing the wound did Boon look at us again. The worst part is over.
But the rest is up to her. He covered Nia's side with a clean bandage, then slowly returned his instruments to the case. As he washed his hands, he spoke with the calm of a man who had watched life and death argue countless times. "I've seen strong men die from smaller wounds. I've also seen young women survive things no person should survive."
He looked toward Nia. She has a fighter spirit. No doctor can teach that. The next two nights were the longest of my life. Jeb insisted that we take turns guarding the property.
I barely moved from the chair beside Nia's bed. Every few hours, I changed her bandage. I gave her water. I checked her fever again. And I waited.
I did nothing but wait. On the second morning, sunlight was entering through the window when I heard a horse voice. Wade. My head snapped up. Nia's eyes were open.
They held the same stubborn fire I had seen while she was bound to the railroad tracks. A crushing weight lifted from my chest. I thought you intended to scare us for the rest of our lives. She drew a slow breath. Then she murmured, "You still make too much noise when you sleep."
I could not stop myself from laughing. It had been years since laughter had felt that natural. And you still have enough strength to argue with me. That means you're going to live a very long time. That afternoon, Sheriff Cole Reed arrived with his deputies, Sam Ford and Clay Boone.
They carefully examined the entire property, the bodies, the weapons, and finally, Silus Crow's black horse. Jeb was the first to search the saddle bags. They contained far more than ammunition. Contracts, survey maps, signed orders, payment receipts, private correspondence. Every document created another trail leading directly to the Red Canyon Railroad Board.
Sheriff Cole Reed examined the papers one at a time. His expression hardened with every page. With this, they can no longer claim they knew nothing. Nia struggled to raise herself from the bed. My father's evidence is still missing.