Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“To be honest, I don’t have any stories about terrorists, but I have a hundred stories like that one about Dave’s truck and his daughter. I have a story like that for almost every one of you in here, the things my deputies and I do every day. The little things, which maybe don’t seem like much, but to me, make all the difference in the world. It’s what makes Murfee and the Big Bend the only place I want to raise my son. That, and land like the Monument. All those beautiful views that are ours to keep, that are like no place else in this whole damn world.”
Chris turned to look straight at Bethel. “Bethel Turner was a fine Ranger, and he’ll make a good sheriff. He’s a serious man, experienced. There’s no doubt about it. There’s plenty I don’t know about this job, including how to keep you all safe all the time. I can’t . . . won’t . . . promise that, and if he can, then he’ll get my vote, too.
“But I do know this town.” Chris pointed the microphone into the dark. “I know you. Your sons and daughters, the way many of you have known me my whole life. And I know the Big Bend, this land we all love. The Far Six is my Monument, and I nearly died out there trying to defend it . . . to defend us. The same way my deputies do every day. None of us will ever buy the safety and security of the Big Bend with another man’s blood.” Chris glanced at where Royal Moody and some of the others were sitting. “I’ve proved that. I’ve already bled plenty enough for it.”
He stopped, looked down at the microphone in his hand, at his ravaged body. “I’ve enjoyed being your sheriff. It’s been an honor, the greatest honor of my life. But I think I’ve already talked too much tonight, so that’s pretty much all I have to say.”
He turned and held out the microphone to Bethel, who looked as if he wanted to do anything but grab it, but he finally stepped off his chair and did. Chris shook Bethel’s hand, and turned back to the silent gym.
The last time he had been inside this gym, people were cheering for him.
He looked over to where his deputies were sitting—Tommy and Dale and Till and Marco and Danny and America. He nodded at them and smiled.
His dad, calling out his name.
Then he looked for Mel again, standing beneath the exit sign. The Big Bend night was out there, just on the other side of the door, and its breeze was moving her hair.
The whole world laid out in front of him.
He walked toward her, past the assembled town and all the people he knew, and out into the night.