found another letter.
His father wrote that the boy had overheard a conversation that he should never repeat.
Gideon closed his eyes.
The memories came back slowly.
A stable.
Two men arguing.
Money.
A shot.
And a familiar voice.
Gideon picked up the pencil with trembling fingers.
Ashford.
Rosalie stopped breathing.
—My father?
Gideon nodded.
Before they could write more, they heard horsesapproaching.
Rosalie looked out the window.
His father was standing in front of the house.
Merrick was with him.
Gideon still couldn’t hear the hooves.
But Rosalie did.
