I won't stay. Thank you, Clara said. They walked back toward the main street, a fragile hope growing in Clara's chest. It was shattered before they reached the corner. A man wearing a sheriff's badge stepped out of the barber shop, flanked by two deputies.
It was not the Red Rock Sheriff. This was a local man. But the piece of paper in his hand was fresh. Clara Vale? The deputy asked.
Mrs. Kincaid? Eli corrected, stepping in front of her. I have a warrant here for a Clara Veil. The deputy said, ignoring Eli.
IsSiouxd out of Red Rock this morning. Wired over the telegraph. Charge is grand larceny. Theft of a diamond brooch from a Mr. Silas Vance.
That is a lie, Clara said, her voice shaking. I have never stolen anything. You can tell it to the judge, the deputy said, reaching for her arm. Eli's hand dropped to his gun. The air in the street froze.
The two deputies behind the leader put their hands on their own weapons. Passers by scrambled out of the way. Eli, no, Clara said. They are framing you, Eli said, his eyes fixed on the deputy. If they take you, you will never make it to the hearing.
If you draw that gun, the deputy said, we will shoot you down right here. And then she hangs for sure. Eli stood on the precipice. His entire body screamed to fight. He could draw.
He was fast enough. He could kill this man. But then what? They would be outlaws. They would be hunted for the rest of their lives.
He would become the violence he feared. Eli, Clara said sharply. She stepped out from behind him. She put her hand on his chest, right over his heart. Do not do it.
I will not run. I will not give them the satisfaction. She looked at the deputy. I am innocent. I will face the magistrate.
The deputy smirked and slapped handcuffs on her wrists. Right this way, honey. The jail cell was cold and smelled of vomit. Eli sat on the bench outside the bars, refusing to leave. He had sent a runner for Thorne.