I hear a voice. The reason we’d started this. Why we stayed in Ponderosa Springs. It’s the voice that never asked us to go through with this, but we refused to let him do it alone. His revenge had become ours. His pain was something we shared. The fourth and final member of Ponderosa Springs’s bastard founding sons. “I leave and you let Rook take the lead?” His voice is smoke, quiet, lingering. “You’ve lost your edge, Caldwell.” Welcome home, Silas.
