But I don’t need to. I already know.
Better to be damned than be alone in this life. In the next. Better to be damned because sometimes damnation andsalvation are the same.
“You know, Zeke, maybe you have helped me after all,” I tell him, watching him frown in confusion. “In a way, you helped me get where I needed to be in this life. And now, maybe you’ll help me in the next. One last question,” I say, aiming right at his chest with both eyes open. “What is my name?” He stares at me, mouth open but no sound comes out, and I smile as I pull the hammer back until it clicks, as I let my finger hover over the trigger. “It’s Cora. Please, tell the devil who sent you.”
I squeeze, not even flinching as the gun kicks back and hits its target for the first time. I let it fall to the ground as the sound falls away along with the last of Zeke’s life, and Aiden was right again. It doesn’t bring me peace. But I was right, too. I already have it.
Then Aiden shouts my name.
One Year Later
I say goodbye on a hill.
A peaceful spot beneath the open desert sky on a spring day. A bundle of white flowers and a book in my hand that I lay on a grave of stone. Still fighting back tears even though more than a year has passed.
I’m still not sure exactly what to say—thought I might by the time I was standing here—but I still don’t. Don’t know how to apologize for the things that brought me here while also feeling grateful for them at the same time.
If we’d never come here then my father never would have been killed. But I also never would have met them.
Aiden and Cypress stand together a few paces behind me, giving me the space to say my goodbyes while Aiden keeps a watchful eye on the world around us. While Cypress continues to be the most suitably dressed to attend a service.
His head tilts when he sees me looking at him, a soft smile onhis face as he interprets it as an invitation to take his place by my side.
“I would say that I wish I could have met him, but I’m not sure he would have felt the same,” he says, looking at the Bible and the flowers that I laid down. “I don’t imagine many fathers dream of having their daughter end up with a pair of outlaws.”
“Maybe not,” I say back, teasing him, though I don’t miss the way his eyes sharpen a bit when I suggest, “Perhaps you’ll find out someday.”
“Perhaps,” he repeats, smiling more broadly before he wraps an arm around my shoulders. I lean into his right side, the same one where Aiden had discovered a deep wound almost too late. The same one where, whenever I touch it, I still look at his face to see if it pains him even though I know he’s now healed. No more worse for wear than a few new scars.
We hadn’t been sure that would be the case when Aiden put me on Cerberus with a fading Cypress all those months ago. When he’d told me to ride for the doctor in town as fast as I could and I’d fought for the strength to hold Cypress and myself steady over uneven ground, hoping his boast that Cerberus had yet to be caught would remain when racing against death itself. Hoping it would be enough as I sat in the parlor all those hours later and waited for the doctor. As I told Aiden when he arrived that I’d tried as best as I could.
“I know you did, sweetheart,” he murmured, holding me against his chest as I wept out days of worry and fear. “You did good.”
Later that night, he told me both the good and the bad of what he’d done. How he’d covered our tracks, how he’d dragged Zeke inside and made sure the shack burned to the ground, made sure this time that no one could follow before coming to find us.
After that, all we had to do was wait. Until at long last, the doctor emerged to tell us both what we already knew.
Which is that Cypress is a terrible patient, and that there was not enough money in the world to convince him to keep him under his care any longer than was strictly necessary.
Not that Cypress would have allowed it in any case. After three days spent as a captive and several weeks more spent recovering, keeping him there any longer seemed likely only to result in yet another building being set ablaze.
“Can you imagine Aiden as a father?” Cypress murmurs at my side now, proving again that he is very much recovered as his eyes spark with mischief. “Waiting on the porch after some poor soul came courting? After someone thinks to take one of his babies from us?”
“They’d have to find us first,” Aiden grumbles out.
Cypress easily responds, “That will be their test.” He grins at me. “To see if they’re a hunter, too. Imagine if any of the children brought home someonereputable.”
“Godforbid,” I mutter. “Also,children?How many are we talking about, Cy?”
Cypress tilts his head, considering. “We will need a few with their mother’s green eyes. At least a couple with Aiden’s stoic intensity. I think…a dozen should be sufficient.”
“Adozen?” I nearly choke, Aiden laughing behind me as I say, “Absolutely not. I’ve things to do. Plus, with our luck, the first one will end up being your spitting image, and it’ll take all three of us to keep them out of trouble.”
Cypress shrugs, then laughs, too. “A dozen, one, none…I suppose fate will decide.”
“Not entirely fate, is it?” Aiden chimes in. “Considering how many times we fu—”
The end of his sentence is cut off when I rush over to clamp my hand over his mouth, though I can still see the grin in his brown eyes before I nod in the direction of the grave. “Quite a first impression you’re making,” I tell him before he kisses my palmand eases my hand away. He keeps the smile and my hand in his as he walks with me to stand where Cypress and I had just been, then bows his head as he stands between us, both in presumed apology and possible prayer.