"You are a liar," Silas screamed, turning to look at Shorty. "You drunken fool. I fired you for incompetence. I am sober today, Mr. Crane, Shorty said.
And I ain't going to hell for you. The judge looked at Silas. Silas Crane, you are under arrest for the murder of William Billy Miller and for conspiracy to commit arson. Marshals, take him. Silas backed away as the marshals advanced.
His veneer of civilization cracked and fell away, revealing the cornered rat beneath. "You cannot touch me. I own this town. I own the water. " He reached into his coat. It happened in a heartbeat, the glint of nickel, the roar of a hidden derringer.
Silas did not aim at the marshals. He aimed at the source of his ruin. He aimed at Eli. Maggie screamed. Eli shoved Maggie to the floor.
Covering her body with his own. The gun went off. A deafening crack in the enclosed space. A splinter of wood flew from the altar rail inches from Eli's head. Before Silas could [ __ ] the hammer again, a marshal's Winchester boomed.
Silas crane jerked. A red flower bloomed on the white front of his shirt. He looked down at it, an expression of profound surprise on his face. He looked at the town that had feared him, at the woman he had tried to buy, and at the man he couldn't break. He crumpled to the floor of the church, dead before he hit the planks.
Silence filled the room. It was absolute. The dust motes danced in the shafts of light coming through the high windows. Eli slowly lifted his head. He checked Maggie.
She was pale, shaking, but unharmed. "Are you hit? " he demanded, his hands searching her arms, her face. "No," she whispered. "No. " They stood up together. The town's people were staring, but the look had changed.
The judgment was gone in the eyes of the pastor's wife, in the eyes of the shopkeeper, in the eyes of the ranch hands. There was something new. There was respect. There was the recognition that they were looking at two people who had walked through the fire and come out holding hands. The judge stepped down from the pulpit.
He looked at the body of Silas Crane, then at Eli and Maggie. "Justice is served," the judge said quietly. Though the cost was high, they walked out of the church into the blinding Wyoming sunlight. The wind was blowing, kicking up dust devils in the street. It was the same wind that had greeted Maggie when she arrived, hostile and relentless.