He had his own revolver, Regina’s golden gun, Granny’s rifle, and the handgun the college kid from the costume store had pointed at him. He’d taken three boxes of cartridges from Granny’s house, and the college kid’s gun still had a full magazine. Both his revolver and Regina’s gun were down two rounds. So if taking the two detectives out required a firefight, he probably could manage it, but he still didn’t like the odds.

Especially not here, where most people carried weapons as a matter of course. The official motto of Modoc County was “Where the West Still Lives,” and that was the truth. If Ephraim started a gunfight with those two detectives anywhere near the town, he had no doubt that at least one resident would jump in.

So he kept driving, not stopping until he was out of Snowbush limits and out of sight of the general store. He’d wait until Rhee was on the move again to follow.

He wanted to know how they’d found this place. And what else they knew.

SNOWBUSH, CALIFORNIA

MONDAY, APRIL 17, 1:00 P.M.

“You’re my fiancée and we’re shopping for knickknacks to decorate our new house,” Rafe whispered into Mercy’s ear as they walked into the store.

She gave him an amused look, hoping he couldn’t see how much she didn’t object to the idea. Not now, of course. Maybe not ever, but it was a nice dream. “Oh really?”

He grinned. “Really.”

“Afternoon,” the young woman behind the counter greeted, her smile friendly. “My name is Ginger. If I can be of any help, just let me know.”

Mercy smiled back. “Thank you, Ginger. We will.” The bell above the door jingled, signaling that Erin and Sasha had followed them inside. “And who are they supposed to be?” she murmured as the young woman called out the same greeting.

“My sister and her girlfriend,” Rafe replied. “But if you tell them I said the G-word, I’ll call you a liar.”

Mercy snickered. “Scared of them?”

“Hell, yeah.” He looped his arm through hers and they wandered the small store, which was half groceries and half gifts, crafts, and souvenirs. “Because I’m not stupid.”

Mercy was examining the shelves and displays, disappointed not to see any quilts. She’d just convinced herself that they’d driven all this way for nothing, when she stopped and stared. “Oh.”

It was a jewelry box that resembled an old-fashioned chest of drawers, with curved legs and intricate carvings. She traced the inlaid bone on the lid with trembling fingers. This was Amos’s work. She was certain of it.

“It’s nice,” Rafe said conversationally, but she’d felt him tense beside her. “But you don’t have enough jewelry to fill it.”

She forced a chuckle, keeping up the charade. “You can buy me some, then.”

“That’s a beautiful piece.” Ginger had come from behind the counter to stand next to them. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen and not an inch over five feet tall. “It’s handmade by a local artisan.”