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the beaten-down grass winding between the rows of gravestones. Near the back, he stopped the team with a spoken word, set the brake and helped his sister down.
    As he unhitched his horse to graze, a pair of cardinals darted into the evergreens surrounding the property. From the small barn across the way, a cow lowed. A reminder of his youth when he’d helped Pa milk their Holsteins twice a day, every day, all year long.
    Nate offered his arm and Anna slipped hers through the crook. They climbed a small slope and stopped in front of the simple headstone marking their parents’ grave. Weeds grew at the base, tangling up and onto the engraved surface.
    He knelt, ripped out the vines and tossed them aside.
    “Who’ll do this when we’re not here?” Anna said, her voice as bleak as the black she wore.
    “We’ll get back.”
    Though he saw the doubt in her eyes, she gave a nod, then gathered the weeds and carried them to the compost.
    As she walked on to Walt’s grave, seeking a private moment with her husband, Nate sat back on his heels at their parents’ headstone.
    He traced the inscription, his fingers slipping over crevices forming the names Ephraim and Victoria Sergeant. Beloved parents . Good, hardworking, God-fearing people. They’d taken the first trip of their lives to visit Ma’s sister in Kansas. They’d never made it. Outlaws robbed the train, killing four passengers, his parents among the dead.
    For what? A few dollars and a paltry sack of jewelry.
    Shifty Stogsdill had been the leader of the gang.
    Nate saw Stogsdill’s face in every fugitive he tracked down.
    Before his parents had left, they’d asked him to look after Anna, always concerned someone would take advantage of her sweet, giving nature.
    He’d tried. With everything in him, he’d tried.
    A gust of air heaved from his chest. In truth, the very day Anna married Walt, Nate had left home, compelled to bring Stogsdill to justice. More than once, he’d come close to capturing the villain. But somehow Stogsdill had managed to slip away.
    Then he’d met Rachel, a pastor’s daughter, a sweet, gentle young woman, and he’d gotten complacent, thinking he could trade the life of a bounty hunter for a small-town sheriff’s badge.
    Until the day Stogsdill had come to Rachel’s hometown, gunning for Nate. As they’d crossed the street, Rachel had been chattering about their upcoming nuptials.
    The thud of pounding hooves raised the hair on his nape. Drawing his gun, Nate whirled toward the road.
    A flash of red, the glint of metal from Stogsdill’s hand.
    A blast.
    Nate fired just as a bullet whizzed past.
    Rachel tumbled. Down, down, down.
    Stogsdill’s aim had been off, a few inches to the right, and Rachel, an innocent young woman, lay on the street, her shirtwaist oozing red as life seeped out of her.
    Tears stung his eyes. He’d been a fool to put aside the life of a bounty hunter for a sheriff’s job, enabling Stogsdill to track him to Rachel’s hometown. Even four years later, Nate could barely live with his failure to avenge her death.
    If it was the last thing he did, Nate would see that Stogsdill got what he deserved. He couldn’t expect God to help him. Not when he had blood on his hands and vengeance in his heart.
    A gentle hand pressed into his shoulder. “You okay?”
    Nate slowed his breathing. “I’m fine.” He forced a smile. “And eager to see your handiwork walking the streets of Gnaw Bone.”
    “Walking dresses?” Anna laughed. “That’s something I’ve got to see.”
    The jingle of the horses’ harness brought Nate to his feet. “We’d better get going if we hope to reach Gnaw Bone by supper.”
    As they walked to the wagon, a blue jay squawked from a tree branch overhead. Puffy clouds inched across the topaz sky. In this peaceful moment, the earth had righted on its axis.
    Yet, out there somewhere, Stogsdill waited. Armed and dangerous. Nate had given up normalcy, peace, to protect the defenseless.
    His