Chapter 5 - The Reckoning at Midnight
The silence that followed the explosion was deafening.
Smoke hung thick over the yard, smelling of burnt sulfur, pine needles, and blood. The moon cleared a dark ridge of clouds, casting a harsh, silver light across the ruined clearing.
Sheriff Dell’s horse had been killed by the blast. Dell lay on his back in the dirt, his sheepskin coat torn, blood trickling from his ear. He scrambled backward like a crab, trying to reach his dropped revolver.
Silas Vane stood ten feet away. His horse had bolted, but he remained standing, his dark coat covered in gray ash. His silver-handled Colt was held in his right hand, pointed toward the front door of the house.
"Come out, Jesse!" Vane screamed, his voice cracked and hysterical. "Come out and face me like a man!"
The wooden front door of the log house swung open slowly, groaning on its iron hinges.
Jesse Vance walked out onto the porch.
He had dropped his Winchester. His duster was thrown back, revealing his dark vest and the single Colt .45 sitting low on his hip. His face was streaked with soot, but his eyes were completely calm.
Behind him, holding the empty shotgun like a club, stood Roslyn Calder.
"It's over, Silas," Jesse said, walking down the three wooden steps into the yard. His boots sank slightly into the wet earth. "Your men are gone. Your dynamite is gone. And Dell is bleeding out in the dirt."
Dell looked up from the ground, gasping for air. "Jesse... please," Dell choked out. "It was Vane’s idea... Blackwood Pass... he shot the guards! I just drove the team!"
"Shut up, you sniveling coward!" Vane spat, not taking his eyes off Jesse.
Vane took two steps forward, his boots coming to rest near the edge of the creek path.
"You think you won, Jesse?" Vane whispered, his lips curling into a manic sneer. "You think you can just walk away with Elijah’s widow and his silver mine? I built this town! I own every judge in the state! Even if you survive tonight, they'll hunt you down like a dog!"
"No judge is going to save you, Silas," Jesse said, stopping fifteen feet away from him. "Because I'm not taking you to a judge."
Vane’s hand twitched. "You're going to murder me in cold blood?"
"No," Jesse said softly. "I'm going to give you the same chance you gave my brother."
For three long seconds, nobody moved. The wind died down. The creek bubbled softly over the river rocks nearby.
Roslyn stood on the porch, her heart pounding against her ribs, her knuckles white around the wooden stock of the shotgun. She watched the two men standing in the moonlight—two shadows bound together by twelve years of blood, deceit, and stolen gold.
Vane’s eyes flicked down to Jesse’s holster.
DRAW.
Vane’s silver revolver cleared his holster first, his thumb snapping back the hammer with practiced speed.
Jesse didn't draw fast. He drew clean.
A single gunshot shattered the midnight quiet.
BANG.
Silas Vane froze. His revolver cleared his leather, pointed toward the sky, but his thumb never released the hammer.
A tiny, dark hole appeared in the center of Vane’s silk cravat, right over his throat.
Vane looked down at his chest in shock. He dropped his silver gun into the dirt, stumbled backward two steps, and collapsed face-first into the cold waters of Willow Creek.
The red blood coiled out into the clear water, washed away by the steady current.
Jesse stood in the center of the yard, his Colt smoking in his hand. He took a long, slow breath, holstered his weapon, and turned toward Sheriff Dell, who was watching from the ground with wide, terrified eyes.
"Pick up your badge, Dell," Jesse said coldly. "You're going to ride to the state capital tomorrow morning. And you're going to tell the governor every single word about Blackwood Pass."
Dell swallowed hard, nodding frantically. "I'll tell them... I'll tell them everything, Jesse! Just don't shoot!"
Jesse turned his back on the sheriff and walked up the steps toward the porch.
Roslyn set her shotgun down against the wall. She looked at Jesse, her eyes wet with tears of relief.
May you like
He stopped in front of her, his hand reaching out to gently brush a smudge of soot from her cheek.
"It's finished, Roslyn," Jesse whispered. "The debt is paid."
