The way Caleb saw it, that was his only hope. It took them at least forty-five minutes to hike this far, uphill. Maybe Luke could make it back to town in thirty. Then he’d have to tell people. If his mom didn’t have to hold a goddamn meeting to get people to respond, maybe they’d be able to get here to help him in an hour and a half.

How the hell was he going to be able to stall for an hour and a half?

“Why did y’all come up here that day, anyway?” Grubbs asked. “I thought I’d give you a start on a story.”

“Can I be honest? I mean, no disrespect, but you really don’t like it when I’m honest. You say you do, but look at my eye.”

The crowd didn’t like his answer, but it seemed to amuse Grubbs. “I want nothin’ but the truth from you, Mr. Caleb.”

“That truck driver that got killed on the day after the war started,” Caleb said. “His name was Ryan. Hamilton, I think. Ryan Hamilton. He was a really nice guy, they said, and they didn’t want to just leave the body.”

“Be careful, Mr. Caleb,” Grubbs cautioned. “Is that the only reason they came out that day?”

“There was also the stuff that was stolen,” Caleb said.

“What about it?”

“People wanted to get it back.”

“So they decided to kill for it?”

“I don’t think anybody decided to do that. But we knew you had it—remember when we met the day after the war? Out on the road?”

“I remember.”

“Well, we saw the stuff then. You had it then.”

Grubbs took a step forward. “You callin’ me a thief, Mr. Caleb?”

Caleb took an equal step back. “N-no, sir. I’m just saying you were with the missing stuff that day. I’m not saying you stole it.” He was proud of himself for threading that needle.

Grubbs seemed a little deflated, like the fight he was hoping for didn’t materialize.

Caleb kept going. “You told Major McCrea that day that if you saw him again, you’d shoot him. That’s why everybody brought guns.”

“You were expecting a shootout, then?”

“I guess so, sir. We didn’t want it. We didn’t come for it. But I guess we knew it was possible.”

“Yet y’all came anyway. And killed half my family.”

“We didn’t want to. Seriously, we didn’t want to. Major McCrea made it very clear that revenge wasn’t the reason for the trip. Mr. Abbott and Mr. Simmons wanted their stuff back, and they were putting together a lynching, but Major McCrea said no. If your guys hadn’t fired the first shot, there wouldn’t have been any shooting.”

“Is that so? You really believe that?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”