HE GAVE WATER TO A WOUNDED APACHE WOMAN—BY SUNRISE 300 RIDERS SURROUNDED HIS RANCH, AND THE BUNDLE SHE CARRIED THREATENED TO DESTROY HIS FAMILY NAME

Silas Vane moved from his mansion into two rooms above the closed bank.

Most people in Carrick considered that justice.

Corvin considered it incomplete.

Vane had not yet accounted for every dollar.

Margaret forced him to.

Brother and sister spent three weeks reconstructing ledgers.

The Dry Creek trust had lost enormous value through unauthorized investment, but liquid assets, property seizures, and Vane's personal holdings could restore a substantial portion.

Silas signed over his mansion.

His freight shares.

Two warehouses.

A cattle interest.

Even his mother's silver.

Margaret stopped him at that.

"Keep the silver."

"Why?"

"Mother didn't steal anything."

Silas looked at her.

Then began crying.

Quietly.

Corvin happened to witness it from the doorway and stepped back before Vane saw him.

Later Silas came outside.

"You enjoying the spectacle?"

"No."

"That's disappointing."

Corvin leaned against the rail.

"You could have stopped this years ago."

"So could Gideon."

"He's facing charges."

"So am I."

"You should."

Vane nodded.

No argument.

That was new.

"I keep thinking about Ellis," Vane said.

"Margaret says he distrusted you."

"He had excellent judgment."

"You loved him?"

Vane looked offended.

"Of course."

Corvin waited.

"Then why build a life where your own nephew couldn't trust you?"

Vane looked toward the street.

"Because every compromise seemed temporary."

Corvin understood more than he wanted to.

Vane continued.

"You borrow trust once. Then again. Eventually you're living entirely on credit."

He laughed bitterly.

"Appropriate for a banker."

His criminal case remained pending, but prosecutors acknowledged his later cooperation.

Nothing erased decades of corruption.

Nothing needed to.

Consequences were not the same as erasure.

Before Corvin left, Vane handed him one final document.

A private letter from Helena.

She had written it to Silas shortly before her death.

Corvin opened it.

Silas,

You are becoming your father because you think recognizing his sins makes you immune to them. Gideon is making the same mistake. Elias makes another: he believes guilt itself is repentance. None of you understand that remorse is only useful when it changes what happens next.

Corvin stopped reading.

Vane said, "She wrote that when I was twenty-eight."

"Did you answer?"

"No."

"Why keep it?"

Vane smiled sadly.

"Because sometimes a man keeps the letter he most wants to disprove."

Corvin folded it.

"Why give it to me?"

"Because you're in danger of making your own version of the same mistake."

Corvin frowned.

"What mistake?"