“They tried.” I shook my head. “No one would take them seriously. Three people on horseback claiming a murderous killer was running loose at a resort? They thought the three of them were doing some kind of a stunt for the local mystery theater.”

“You know, Darby,” Bram said, “if you hadn’t put it all together, Cookie just might have succeeded. Either way, Sam would have been blamed.”

“Mae put it together. I just followed her message.” I shrugged. “Would you like a tour? Or . . .” I glanced at his cane.

He picked it up. “Just temporary. I twisted my ankle shooting hoops at the Y.”

I didn’t know how to ask him about his burns.

“I was in the hospital for two days.” He laughed at my expression. “Remember I told you I was a mind reader. Anyway, a little rehab, some scars, but otherwise I healed up just fine.” He stood. “I guess we all ended up with a few scars.”

We slowly made our way over to the lodge. Behind us, the cheerful calling and laughter of the children filled the air. Holly had taken her favorite ball and found a camper willing to throw it for her. We came to a newly installed sundial. Engraved on the top, it read In Memory of Mae Haas. No Longer in the Shadows. I’d had the photo of her from her Bible enlarged and sealed behind glass in the base so everyone could see her.

“Very nice,” Bram said. “Fitting.”

“We had her remains scattered over the mountains she loved,” I said.

Inside the lodge, Grace had doubled the size of the dining room and added long tables. “Where the original staff quarters stood”—Grace pointed straight ahead—“we have an indoor pool and arts and crafts center. There’s a new chapel up by the pond. I remodeled the triplex and made it a duplex where Darby and the new art teacher stay. The old art room is now the manager’s office.” She turned to Bram. “What do you think?”

“Mule Shoe was breathtaking before. Now? Yeah.”

“Good. You start in a week.”

“Wh . . . wh . . . what?” I was having a hard time breathing.

“Bram just agreed to be the new manager,” Grace said. “You two will be working together.” She smiled and sauntered away.

“What do you say, Darby?” Bram asked. “Think you could work with me? I have some big plans.”

“Depends.”

His forehead furrowed. “Oh.”

“Did you ever add unlined five-by-seven mint-green index cards to your selection of papers?” I thought for sure he’d laugh.

Instead he pulled a rock from his pocket. “Hopefully I’ve done better than that.” He held up the stone.

I recognized it as the one I’d left sitting on the pistol that awful evening, the last pebble given to me by Clan Firinn.