“I’ll help you, Truett.”

Truett glanced over at Griff. He’d been so quiet during the exchange with Greenbrier, Truett had forgotten he was there. The offer was sincere, but he couldn’t put his brother at risk. He would have to get away from Griff, but how?

“Everything’s all right. Why don’t you go across the street and see what Mama’s doing? She may have bought a peppermint stick for you.”

Griff crossed his arms and glared at Truett.

“I have to leave. You’re just going to have to stay with Mama.”

“No. I go with you.”

Truett gritted his teeth and strode out the door, Griff following right behind him. He went across the red clay street to the general store and found his mother examining a bolt of cloth. He touched her arm and leaned his head close to hers. Aubrey Pettibone stood behind the counter, watching him with beady hawk eyes.

“I need you to take Griff home.” Truett kept his voice low. He stared hard at his mother, hoping she could see the seriousness in his eyes and would not question him.

“Mama, no!” Griff’s voice rose to almost a shout, resounding through the whole store. “I want to go with Truett!”

“Come on outside, Griffy.” Mother tried to soothe him with a gentle tone.

“No!” That agitated look came over Griff’s features, the one that said he was losing control. His face turned red and he puffed out his cheeks.

“We’ll go looking for a Glory Patch in the morning. How does that sound?” Truett smiled, feigning a calm that he was far from feeling. “We’ll go fishing, too, if you want.”

A smile broke over Griff’s features. “Let’s go now!”

Still Aubrey Pettibone stared at them, obviously listening to every word.

“Let’s go outside.” Truett looked his mother in the eye and used his head to motion toward the door. Then he escorted them both out into the street.

“Truett’s taking me fishing!” Griff leapt out of the store and started jumping up and down.

“Tomorrow, Griff. All right? We’ll go later.”

Griff’s mouth hung open.

“Right now I have something else I have to do.”

“I want to go too.”

To keep Griff’s agitation from getting out of hand, he knew he had to stay calm. He took a deep breath to get control of his voice.

“Griff, you know you’re my buddy, right?”

“Yeah, Tru.”

“You also know I’m a doctor. And doctors help people. Right now I got to go help somebody, all right?”

“I come with you. I can help, too.”

“Griff, you can help Mama. Let’s make Truett an apple cake.” Mama smiled, moving in front of Griff so he would look at her. “Come on, honey. Won’t that be fun? We’ll make that burnt sugar icing you like and you can lick the spoon. Then tonight, when Truett gets back, you can show him the cake you helped bake, and you can go digging for fishing worms.” She began moving toward the horse and buggy hitched nearby. “We better hurry home so we can get the cake finished before Truett gets back.”

The confused, petulant look on Griff’s face gradually changed to a smile. “Truett, we’re gonna make you a surprise.”

“Whew-ee. I love surprises. I’ll be there before you know it.”

Truett hurried toward the livery stable to get Colonel. But every time he looked back, Griff was looking over his shoulder at Truett. He might still try to follow. Truett picked up his pace.

Truett saddled up Colonel and rode at a modest clip out of town, not wanting to attract attention. But once he was away from the notice of people, he urged his horse into an all-out gallop, heading straight for the cave at the line between his family’s property and the Wilcoxes’.

Too late, Truett realized he had caught up with Mama and Griff just as they were turning into the drive leading to the house. Truett slowed Colonel to a walk but Griff turned and saw him just before he disappeared behind the trees that lined the road.

Truett galloped past, praying Griff wouldn’t try to follow him. Mama couldn’t stop him if he was determined to leave.

Truett was soon at the mouth of the cave. He dismounted and ducked inside. He stripped off his shirt, which was already damp with sweat, and slipped the cloak over his undershirt. He fastened it at the top and pulled the hood over his head. Finally, he grabbed his rifle from its hiding place.

As he emerged from the cave, a sound like a twig breaking made him freeze in his tracks. He searched the area through the eye holes in his hood. He waited, looking for movement and listening for any sound. A bird fluttered down into the tree in front of him, but nothing else.

Truett cautiously moved toward his horse, holstered his gun, and mounted. He guided Colonel toward the glade of ferns, still looking over his shoulder occasionally to make sure no one was following him. He pushed his horse to go as fast as he dared through the forest toward the clearing of wildflowers and the huge oak tree where Suggs liked to do his lynching.

He drew near the clearing and peered through the leaves. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in, revealing two men standing beneath the hanging tree, nooses around their necks. Suggs and his son, Curtis, sat atop their horses, guarding the men.

Truett searched the area for any other men who might be standing guard nearby but saw no one. Perhaps his sermon had made an impact after all. Aubrey Pettibone was a coward and a hypocrite not to be here himself.

Suggs took his time with first one rope, then the other, and slung it over the thick branch of the tree above the men’s heads.

As Truett crept closer he could make out the faces of the men. Just as he had known, it was Annie’s father and uncle. Their hands were tied behind their backs. The sight filled Truett’s head with heat that beat against his temples.

He took a deep breath. He had to control the urge to shoot Suggs and be done with his ugly evil. But he remembered David, finding King Saul and refusing to kill him, cutting off a piece of his robe instead.

Truett slipped from the saddle and made his way quietly around the clearing, toward where Annie’s father and uncle stood. As he came close, he pulled his knife from his belt.

Truett was directly behind Annie’s father. He waited until the sheriff and Curtis started talking, looking away from their prisoners. Truett whispered, “Step back. Slowly. Take two steps back until you’re almost touching the tree.”

Annie’s father stepped back, using tiny steps, until Truett was able to hide in the large tree trunk’s shadow. He slipped his knife between Isaac’s hands and sawed furiously at the rope that tied them.

“Now don’t move. Pretend your hands are still tied. I’ll give you the signal. You take the rope off your neck and run.” Finally, the rope gave way to his knife’s blade and snapped in two.

The other man had heard at least part of Truett’s whispered instructions. He slowly moved back as Annie’s father moved forward, back to where he had been standing.

Suggs looked up. “Hey! You! Where you think you’re going?” He pointed at Annie’s uncle.

Curtis narrowed his eyes at them, then shook his head. “He can’t get away. He’ll just choke himself if he tries.” The two laughed. “Save us some trouble.”

Truett moved forward, hoping the other man’s slightly broader frame would keep him hidden. He sawed at the rope binding the man’s hands as perspiration beaded his forehead and ran down his temples underneath the hood.

His hands were sweating, too. His grip slipped on the handle of the knife, but he managed to hold on. Finally the rope broke free. Sam’s arms jerked down with the sudden release of the rope, but he quickly righted himself, holding his hands behind his back.

Truett slowly stepped back until he was once again in the cover of the trees. He found Colonel and led him back around to the other side of the clearing, staying hidden among the trees and stepping carefully.

When the sheriff and Curtis were between Truett and the Hartley men, Truett mounted Colonel, took his rifle from its leather case, and nudged Colonel forward. He pointed his gun toward the sky and discharged it with a resounding boom.

Sam and Isaac tossed their nooses over their heads and raced into the trees behind them. Suggs and Curtis both drew pistols from their belts and twisted their bodies this way and that, searching for the source of the gunfire.

Truett wheeled Colonel around and kicked him into a gallop.

A gun shot split the air just before a stabbing pain pierced his side. He pitched forward onto Colonel’s neck, but the horse kept running.

Truett held on to Colonel’s mane, trying not to fall off. He had to stay conscious . . . had to guide Colonel to the cave. The pain intensified. He blinked, trying to focus on his course ahead. Keep me conscious, Lord.

Oh, God, don’t let me die. Celia would never forgive me.