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?
“It means we know who we are, and the things we’ve done. All the things we’re willing to do.”
Danny stepped toward her again. “That’s bullshit. This son of a bitch needs to know what I’m willing to do if he’s here to hurt you.”
“Usted no entiende. He’s not here to hurt me, not now. I don’t know what he wants, but you must trust me. You have no idea who he is, the things he’s done.”
“And you do?” Danny’s breath was on her face, feathering her hair. They were close enough she could imagine his heart beating against hers, then remembered the bullet holes she’d put into that paper target’s heart only moments before. He asked again: “What do you really know?”
But what could he really know about her? What could anyone truly know about someone else?
She let him stand close for few heartbeats longer anyway, wanting that, before backing away again. He let her go, bending down and picking up her heavy brass bucket and putting it in the back of her truck, as she opened her door to drive back to Murfee.
“Sé que somos una familia,” she told him, answering his question. “That man and I are family.”
SIXTEEN
Chris was trying hard to listen as Danny and Amé recounted their interrogation of Eddy Rabbit. They were in Chris’s office, but through his open door, and over their shoulders, he was distracted by two of his other deputies, Tommy Milford and Till Greer, talking. Laughing—beneath Ben Harper’s and Buck Emmett’s black-banded memorial pictures. Dale Holt was out serving a summons with Marco Lucero in tow. That was it: six—all the deputies he had now, to oversee thousands of square miles in the Big Bend.
“Sheriff?” Danny asked, turning to follow Chris’s gaze out the door, as Till was still laughing out loud at whatever dumb story or joke Tommy was spinning. Chris had wanted his deputies to see those pictures of Ben and Buck whenever they walked out of the building as a reminder of what they risked each day, but now they passed those photos of their fallen friends—men they’d once known and laughed with, too—without a second thought or glance, as one day became the next day and then the day after. Until today was just another day. Maybe it had to be that way, so life could go on. Because life had to go on. But Chris still needed those photos, so he’d never forget those losses, never forget how these six men and women left behind were his responsibility, and the risks he asked them to take.
Yesterday. Today. Every day.
“I’m sorry, Danny,” Chris said. “I got distracted by those two clowns out there. Why don’t you grab the door and start again?”
—