I lifted Sam’s pistol and pointed it at her.

She laughed, high-pitched and shrill. “Your gun is empty. I unloaded it before giving it to Sam.”

I kept my gun aimed at her.

Cookie laughed again, even more maniacally, and raised the Glock. “You’re a fool, Darby.”

I pulled the trigger.

Chapter 33

Cookie screamed and dropped to the ground. Roy raced to her side and yanked the pistol from her hands, then bent down and checked her. “You’ll live,” he said to her.

I knew she would. I hadn’t gone for a fatal shot. “I’d still tie her up.”

Roy pulled off his belt and used it to tie Cookie’s hands. The bullet had gone through the fleshy part of Cookie’s hip—painful, but not life-threatening. “Maja,” he said to one of the staffers, “there’s a first-aid kit in the lodge. Bring me that and a blanket.”

The woman left.

“I thought she said your gun was empty,” Roy said to me.

“She emptied the clip but forgot to check the chamber.” I was suddenly exhausted, in need of sitting down before I fell down. I hopped over and sat next to Bram.

“How bad is it?” I tried not to look at his burned legs.

“Bad.” He winced. “My legs . . . and I think my shoulder is dislocated.”

I started to stand and called for Roy.

He grabbed my hand. “No. Don’t leave. I wanted . . . want to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not believing you were perfect from the start.”

“Thank you, Bram. I’m not perfect.”

Maverick came up to me and lay down, keeping a wary eye on Bram. I put my arm around the dog. A calm settled over me.

“He’s finally trusting you,” Bram said.

I stroked his silky ear. “He’s coming around.”

Bram shifted, then winced. “The dogs led you to Shadow Woman—”

“Mae. Her name was Mae Haas. Her dogs guarded her body for as long as they could.”

Maja returned with the first-aid kit, water bottles, and blankets. She left the kit and one blanket with Roy, then brought the water and second blanket over to Bram. We covered him and gave him the water.

Grace joined us. “You said you were exonerated.” Grace sat on the other side of Bram. “From what?”

I held up Sam’s empty pistol, then placed it on the ground beside Bram. Reaching into my pocket, I removed the last stone and set it on the pistol. “For feeling responsible for losing my unborn baby, losing my leg, and losing my husband. That day five years ago, my gun wasn’t loaded.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Bram said.

“Yes and no.” I shrugged. “I guess I’ll always feel guilty, but who’d believe they needed to be armed when going to buy a horse?”

“I read that you weren’t found until hours after the shooting,” Bram said.