Jack Marston is at a low point in his life. His family is dead, Beecher's Hope is in ruins, and he has nothing left to live for. Most days he spends so drunk he can barely remember anything, he kills and robs people at will, and there isn't an ounce...
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"They came and took Abigail!" shrieked Aunt Tilly at the top of her lungs. One of her arms was held tightly around Jack, and the other grasped at the reins of her horse. She felt strong, but Jack could sense the hysteria in her voice and feel the trembling of her skin as her hands held on to him for dear life.
She always smelled good, his Aunt Tilly. Like campfire smoke and soapsuds and something sweet and earthy and floral. In the midst of all that was happening, the scent of her was enough to calm Jack just enough to keep from falling apart. He knew this was serious, but somehow when he was safe in his Aunt Tilly's arms, he knew everything would be okay.
And Uncle Dutch was back, anyway. Uncle Dutch and Uncle Arthur and Pa would go get Momma, just as they'd come for Jack in Saint Denis when he'd been staying with Angelo Bronte.
But where was Pa? Jack searched the sea of men on horses, but there was no sign of either Pa or Old Boy, Pa's large, muscular Hungarian Halfbred. The crowd of horses thundered to a stop in front of Aunt Tilly's horse, but Jack still did not see Pa. Maybe he was lagging behind a bit? His eyes slid to Uncle Arthur's. The man's unnaturally pale face looked even more sad and morose than usual, especially as his striking, sea-green eyes, eyes Jack trusted almost as much as momma's, came to meet his own gaze.
"I saved Jack," Aunt Tilly continued, holding Jack even tighter. "We hid, but they took Abigail!"
Uncle Arthur's brow furrowed with sadness, but Uncle Dutch just looked annoyed. Jack continued frantically searching behind the group for any sign of Pa, running behind on Old Boy.
But there was none.
"Agent Milton and his men," Aunt Tilly continued as her horse stopped and pawed its leg anxiously. "They took her to Van Horn to be put on a boat and tried for murder!" She was nearly in tears.
At the news, Uncle Arthur looked around wildly at all the men in the group. There was now a look of panic on his face. It unsettled Jack. What was going on? Why did Uncle Dutch look so mad? He knew something was horribly, terribly wrong, but his young vocabulary couldn't think of a way to put it into words. All he could do was stare mutely ahead, hoping and praying that Pa would ride up. Any minute now!
"I am sorry to hear that," Uncle Dutch said in an odd voice, shaking his head. He looked a bit sad, Jack thought, but somehow not at the same time. It didn't matter. Any minute now, Pa would be along, and the whole group would be off to bring momma home. Jack wasn't worried in the slightest, especially with Uncle Arthur and Aunt Tilly there.
"We gotta let her go," said Micah Bell, and Jack's heart sank. Let Momma go? What did that mean? Where was Pa? Why weren't Uncle Arthur and the others leaving for Van Horn immediately? Again, Jack was troubled, but had no idea what to say. Momma hadn't murdered anyone. Why had the men who took her said she did? And what if she was found guilty? Would Momma be hung?
