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One year after the wedding
The house was quiet. Eliza sat by the window, cradling the child in her arms with a careful ease that had come quicker than she ever expected. One hand supported his head, the other rested lightly across his back, her thumb moving in slow, absent circles as she watched him sleep.
Nathaniel.
Hiram had been uncertain about the name, but she hadn’t.
The baby stirred slightly, his small fingers curling and uncurling against the fabric of her dress. Eliza smiled faintly, adjusting her hold just enough to keep him comfortable.
“You’re goin’ to wake him,” came a voice from across the room.
Eliza didn’t look up immediately. “I’m not doin’ anything,” she replied calmly.
Hiram paced again. He had been doing that for the better part of the morning. Back and forth, from one side of the room to the other, his boots marking the same worn path across the wooden floor.
Eliza glanced up at him now, one brow lifting slightly. “You are,” she said. “You’re wearin’ a groove into the floor.”
Hiram stopped mid-step, looking down as though expecting to see evidence of it. “I am not.”
Eliza smiled faintly. “Give it another hour,” she said.
Hiram huffed softly, though the sound lacked any real irritation. He dragged a hand over the back of his neck, glancing toward the door before forcing himself to stand still.
Eliza shook her head. “You’ve faced worse than waitin’ for a man to arrive,” she said.
“That ain’t the point,” he replied.
“Then what is?” she asked.
Hiram slowed, his pacing easing into something less restless as he turned to face her. “It’s been a year.”
Eliza nodded. “I’m aware.”
He exhaled. “A year of waitin’ for this to be done,” he went on. “For him to be gone.”
Eliza’s gaze softened slightly. She knew who he meant. He didn’t say the name often anymore. “You trust Sheriff Holloway, don’t you?” she asked.
Hiram didn’t hesitate. “I do. Now.”
“And Edwin?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
Eliza nodded. “Then it will be done,” she said.
~
Hiram moved toward the window, stopping a few feet from where Eliza sat. He rested a hand against the frame, looking out over the town beyond. It had changed. Not all at once. Not in some grand, sweeping transformation. New structures stood where there had once been empty ground. Roads had been cleared, widened.
The gold had done that.
He had overseen the mining himself, ensuring that what was taken from the earth was used to build, to support, to strengthen the town rather than line the pockets of a few.
It was impossible to stay still. He stepped outside and ran his hand over his face. And in the distance, a horse pounded down the street—toward his house.
By the time the sheriff pulled the reins, the horse was lathered and breathing hard. Holloway dismounted quickly, barely taking a moment to settle the animal before turning his attention to Hiram.
“You’re late,” Hiram said, though there was no real accusation in it.
Holloway pulled off his hat, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”
Hiram didn’t like the sound of that.
“What happened?” he asked.
Holloway opened his mouth to answer, but it was Edwin who stepped in front of him. And the past year had changed Edwin quite a bit. He stood straighter now, more certain. The twitchy behavior that had once clung to him like a second skin had been worn away, replaced by something steadier. A badge caught the light on his chest as he stepped forward, his expression serious.
But it wasn’t Edwin that held Hiram’s attention.
It was the man beside him.
Victor.
For a moment, Hiram didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. “How?” he asked, his voice low, controlled.
Holloway exhaled sharply.
“Transport coach,” he said. “We were a day out from the coast. Thought everything was secure.”
Hiram’s gaze flicked briefly to Victor. “Clearly it wasn’t.”
Edwin stepped forward then, his voice tight. “He had help,” he said. “We don’t know from who. They ambushed the coach at a narrow pass. Took out one of the guards, scattered the rest. We assumed you might know something, might have heard something, but it’s clear you didn’t.”
Hiram’s hands curled at his sides. “And you brought him here? To my home?” he asked, disbelief edging into his tone now.
Victor let out a short, humorless laugh. “Not quite, they caught me just outside the property and dragged me back here to face you.”
Holloway stepped slightly to the side, positioning himself between them. “He didn’t come here to stay,” the sheriff said firmly. “He came because he had nowhere else to go.”
Victor’s eyes flicked briefly past Hiram, toward the house. Toward Eliza. Toward the child in her arms. Hiram moved without thinking, stepping just enough to block that line of sight.
Victor’s gaze returned to him, something unreadable passing through it. “Just wanted to see my nephew,” he murmured.
Then, the man smiled. He smiled at Eliza over Hiram’s head, then down at his brother. Hiram’s stomach turned to ice. He shook his head. “I’ll help you take him wherever he’s goin’. But this time, I’m comin’ with you. Seems I need to see this to the end.”
“You sure about that?” Edwin frowned.
“I’m sure.”
Holloway stepped in then, his tone firm. “That’s enough,” he said. “We’re movin’. If you’re comin’, get your horse and hurry up.”
Hiram took one last look at Eliza and baby Nathaniel, sighed, then headed back to the barn to tack up his horse.
~
They pushed hard the first day, harder than the horses preferred, the urgency of it pressing down on all three men. Victor rode bound between them, his hands tied, a length of rope secured to Edwin’s saddle as an added precaution.
A scattering of buildings pressed close against the shoreline, wood weathered by salt and wind, streets uneven and restless with movement. People passed through here more than they settled, travelers, traders, men looking for something or running from it.
The kind of place a man could disappear. If he was clever. If he was fast.
Hiram dismounted slowly, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud as he took in their surroundings. Holloway moved ahead to speak with a pair of local men near what passed for a holding station, while Edwin tightened his grip on the rope, keeping Victor close.
Victor moved swiftly. Faster than he had any right to, given the restraints.
He twisted sharply, yanking the rope from Edwin’s grip with enough force to pull the man forward. Edwin stumbled, losing his footing just long enough for Victor to drive his shoulder into him, sending him crashing to the ground.
“Damn it!” Edwin shouted.
Hiram lunged but Victor was ahead of them. All of them.
He bolted into the street, weaving between people with desperate precision, his bound hands doing little to slow him down as he shoved past a startled man and disappeared into the crowd.
Hiram took off after him. “Victor!”
Victor ducked between two buildings, disappearing into a narrower passage. Hiram followed. The alley was tight, uneven, lined with crates and broken wood. Victor vaulted over a low stack of barrels, his movements desperate but effective. Hiram gained ground. Step by step. Breath by breath.
“You can’t outrun this!” Hiram shouted.
Victor didn’t answer. He burst out the other side of the alley into a wider street, nearly colliding with a wagon before veering sharply to avoid it. The sudden turn cost him.
Hiram closed the distance. He lunged, hand outstretched, and caught him.
They hit the ground hard, rolling across the dirt in a tangle of limbs and dust. Victor twisted beneath him, fighting with a ferocity born of desperation, his bound hands swinging wildly as he tried to break free. Hiram took the hit, then drove his shoulder forward, pinning Victor beneath him. “Stop!” he barked.
Victor didn’t. He surged upward, slamming his head forward, catching Hiram across the brow. Pain flared sharp and sudden, but Hiram didn’t let go. Instead, he drove his fist into Victor’s side. Once. Twice. Victor gasped, the fight faltering just enough for Hiram to shift his weight, forcing him flat against the ground.
“Enough!” Hiram snapped.
Victor hesitated, then began to laugh. Edwin moved in quickly, grabbing Victor’s arms, securing the restraints tighter this time. No room for movement, no room for error. From the glances Edwin shot at Sheriff Holloway, Hiram expected that the town’s newest deputy would be in deep trouble when they returned home.
Victor struggled again, weaker now, his strength already fading from the brief but violent escape. Hiram made note of his hollow cheeks and the dark pockets that held his eyes, the shine gone from them. A year ago, Victor would have outrun them all and made his escape. After so long in jail? It was impossible.
Victor’s gaze lifted to Hiram again, something burning behind it. “This isn’t over,” he said.
Hiram met his eyes. “Yes,” he said simply. “It is.”
~
Victor stood locked away in the prison that night, waiting his final trial. It was one that would condemn him, but Hiram didn’t need to see his brother hang to know that it was done. Holloway would have one of the men stay behind, maybe Edwin, and he’d write the report when he got back to town.
As for Hiram, he walked until he reached the edge of the shore. The ocean stretched out before him, endless and unmoving, waves breaking steadily against the rocks below. He stopped there. Breathing. Letting it settle. Letting his mind take in the facts. The fight was over.
When he went home, he’d be home for good. No more worrying if his brother would try something ever again.
The waves crashed against the shore, trails of water swimming over the tops of his boots but not so high that the water crept into them. Hiram wrapped his arms around himself for just a moment, mourning. Wishing that Victor had chosen another path, that he’d tried to talk out all the things he thought instead of… this.
All of this.
How many people had died or come close to it because Victor couldn’t bring himself to speak to his own brother? The destruction Victor had caused was unforgivable. By the town, by his friends. By everyone in his life.
To get back at Hiram, Victor had completely ruined himself.
“Doesn’t matter now,” Hiram told himself. “Does it?”
The ocean didn’t answer.
He didn’t expect it to.
Hiram walked back from the beach to his horse. He’d spend the night at the inn in town and leave before dawn the next morning with the rest of Holloway’s party. A faint smile crept across his face. If they rode hard, by noon two days from then he’d be back home with Nathaniel and Eliza, having lunch in their home.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
And that was just how he wanted it.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Blood and Honor in the Wild West", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello there, I hope you enjoyed my new western adventure story and the extended epilogue! I would be very glad to read your thoughts below.