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country, a man is innocent until proven guilty,” Polly said quietly, looking at Mitch. What would he say in his defense?
    “There’s proof enough,” the deputy said. “A fine citizen like Mitch Taylor, you’d have never believed it. But I suppose there’s only so much a man can take, and one night, he just lost it.”
    Then he looked at Mitch. “I suppose you thought she had it coming. But no one, no one, deserves to die the way Hattie did.”
    Still, Mitch remained silent, and Polly’s stomach turned inside out. Why wasn’t he defending himself? Why did he seem so calm?
    “Can we go now?” Mitch stared back at the deputy. “I’d rather not cause a scene. My children have already been through enough.”
    Once again, Mitch brought his icy gaze to Polly. “If you wouldn’t mind bringing the children back to my brother’s, let him know what’s happening. He can notify my lawyer. I trust you’ll care for the children as we discussed?”
    Polly nodded slowly. “Of course. I could ask Uncle Frank or Will—”
    “Please don’t.” Mitch’s shoulders rose and fell. “I know you want to help, but right now, the only help I need is making sure my children are safe and well cared for. That’s all that matters to me.”
    Other than his initial protestation of guilt, not one word about his innocence. Not one word about the heinous crime he’d been accused of. In fact, he stood there calmly as though he’d been expecting this to happen all along.
    What kind of man was Mitch Taylor? Had she been wrong in her instincts about him?
    As she watched the deputy put handcuffs on him and lead him down the street, Polly couldn’t imagine that she’d been wrong. But why was he so meekly accepting this injustice?
    Or was it as the deputy had suggested, and Mitch had just snapped?
    Mitch stopped, then turned to look at her. “Go. I’m counting on you.”
    The deputy and his men led Mitch away, and while Polly wanted to run after them, she did the only thing she could do—she ran back to the parsonage and back to the Taylor children.
    When she arrived at the house, Uncle Frank was waiting for her on the porch.
    “Where’s Mitch?”
    Polly started spilling the details of Mitch’s arrest, hoping that somewhere in her words, something would come out that made sense. Before she got very far in her story, Will Lawson, Mary’s husband and a deputy in Leadville, arrived at the house. Both men were silent until Polly finished, but from the expressions on their faces, she knew the situation wasn’t good.
    Finally, Will spoke. “I’ve heard of the case. Grisly murder. Everyone figured the husband did it. He got tired of being cuckolded and finally did something about it. The biggest surprise in the whole thing is why he didn’t do it when their youngest daughter was born. You don’t get much more proof of infidelity than that.”
    Little Isabella’s face popped into Polly’s head. “He wouldn’t have killed her over that. He loves Isabella. He loves all of his children.”
    Will shrugged. “His children, maybe. But I don’t know a man alive who would put up with that kind of behavior from his wife.”
    “So you’re proclaiming him guilty without having all the facts? What kind of lawman are you?”
    A grin spread across Will’s face. “The kind who knows better than to mess with Polly MacDonald. You’re right, though. I don’t have all the facts. But since he’s now closely tied to the family, I aim to find them.”
    Polly’s shoulders relaxed. Despite her lack of trust in most men, she had to admit that one of the few men she trusted explicitly was Will Lawson. He’d proven his honor time and again, and his thirst for justice was unequaled. If anyone could help Mitch, Will could.
    Her conscience nagged her as she remembered Mitch’s instruction not to have anyone help him. But she’d seen his pride in accepting help with the children and knew that getting Will on the case was the right thing to