Reed's men, Wade noticed, had gone very still, rifles lowering by inches as they did the same math Wade had just finished doing himself. Except now the numbers had flipped entirely the other direction. "You have no proof of any of that," Reed said. Though the calm in his voice had gone thin, stretched like a rope about to give. "I have a witness," Hartwell said and gestured.
And an older man stepped forward from among the soldiers, weathered, a settler by his clothes, missing two fingers on his left hand, eyes fixed hard on Reed with a hatred that had clearly had years to properly season. Recognize him, Colonel? Hartwell asked. Mr. Whitfield here survived a raid on his own property five years back this spring. Spent most of that time since insisting the men who did it wore army boots under their disguise. territory dismissed him as grief-addled.
I found his statement filed and forgotten in an evidence box nobody had opened in three years. Wade's stomach dropped clean through the floor of the world. five years, the same year, the same pattern. He hadn't been the only one. I have more, Whitfield said, voice shaking with old fury. Found this in the ash after.
Never could prove whose it was. Maybe now I can. He held out a rifle stock, blackened. At one end, a unit number burned faint into the wood. Hartwell took it, turned it toward the lantern light.
Read the number out loud, flat, final. It matched Reed's old command. This proves nothing, Reed said. Though every man in that clearing could hear the lie cracking under its own weight. Now it proves enough to hold you for a formal inquiry, Hartwell said, which is more than enough for tonight.
Take the colonel into custody, disarm his men, and somebody find out exactly how many other unopened evidence boxes this territory's been sitting on. Reed didn't struggle when the soldiers moved on him. Didn't say another word, not one, as they led him away into the dark, and Wade found that silence in the end more satisfying than any confession could ever have been. Because a man like Reed only ever had power in the room where he controlled the story. take that away from him. And there wasn't much man left standing underneath it at all.
Hartwell approached Wade once the camp had settled. Once Reed's mercenaries had been disarmed and lined up under guard. Once Autumn Sky had finally finally let herself lean into Wade's side and simply breathe. "Callaway," Hartwell said. you served under him. That true long time ago, your testimony would matter a great deal going forward.