Screaming added to the confusion as James pushed Almira behind him and Will jumped in front of James.

Celia was closest to the sheriff. She grabbed the gun barrel and shoved as hard as she could, slamming it into the side of the Suggs’ head.

James and Almira ran. Suggs turned on Celia and grabbed her around the neck with one enormous hand.

Lizzie screamed.

Will ran forward, grabbing the sheriff’s gun and yelling, “Don’t touch my sister!” He kicked the sheriff in the shin.

The sheriff howled and let go of Celia to wrest his gun away from Will. Celia gasped for breath.

Suggs grabbed Will by the shoulder, holding him at arm’s length. “Who else is here?”

Celia’s heart stopped beating. What if he found Truett?

Strength surged through her and started her heart again. She grabbed Suggs’ arm from behind but he shrugged her off.

“Stop! I forbid you to come into my house! Get out. Now!”

Suggs ignored her and stomped down the hall, peering into the bedroom she shared with Lizzie. He pointed the gun inside, glanced around, then moved on to the next room.

Celia and Will both jumped in front of him when he got to the doorway. The sheriff easily peered over their heads.

“Who we got here?” An evil grin spread across his face and he took his time moving his chew of tobacco from his left cheek to his right.

Celia glanced over her shoulder and saw Truett standing behind her. He’d somehow managed to pull on his pants and shirt. Truett and Suggs stared each other down.

“What are you doing here? Say!” Suggs’ thunderous voice reverberated in Celia’s ear.

“He’s my fiancé. He has every right to be here.” Celia thrust out her chin and glared at the sheriff. “But you do not. Leave this place immediately.”

“I’m the sheriff and I’ll go wherever I want.” He roughly pushed Will and Celia aside, forcing his way into the room.

Suggs pointed his gun at Truett and moved closer. “It’s awfully late to still be in bed. I’m afraid you have sullied this young lady’s reputation.”

Celia ran and stood in front Truett, shielding him with her body. She’d die before she’d let that evil man hurt Truett.

“Get out of here.”

“I’m not finished, Missy.” Suggs growled and used the barrel of his rifle to tap Celia on the shoulder.

Truett placed his hands on her upper arms and gently moved her aside. “It’s all right, Celia.” He faced the sheriff. “What do you want, Suggs?”

The sheriff poked Truett in the ribs with the rifle barrel. “I want the hooded horseman. And I believe you’re him. Take your shirt off.”

“Excuse me, Sheriff, but that wouldn’t be appropriate in front of—”

“Take it off!” Suggs didn’t wait. He stepped forward, shifting his gun under his arm, and grabbed Truett’s shirt front in both hands. He ripped the shirt open, sending buttons flying in all directions.

The sheriff’s eyes fastened on the bandage around Truett’s middle. Blood had seeped through, creating a dark red splotch.

“There’s a reward for your capture, Mr. Hooded Horseman.” Sheriff Suggs smiled, showing brown, tobacco-stained teeth.

“No!” Celia raged, her voice strong while her hands shook. “You can’t take him! You have no proof.”

“I will take him. He’s under arrest.”

Sheriff Suggs reached a hand toward Truett, but Celia stepped between them again.

“Don’t you dare touch him.” Celia clenched her hands into fists. Rage filled her so that she could barely see.

Truett caressed her shoulder and spoke softly in her ear. “It’s all right, Celia. I’ll go with him. It’ll be all right.”

Truett couldn’t let Celia and Will continue trying to defend him. Besides, he had no choice. They were all powerless to fight Suggs.

He stepped around Celia. “All right, Suggs. I won’t resist arrest, but I’ve done nothing wrong. My father and his friend, Judge William Richardson—I believe you know him, the probate judge?—are coming into town. Could be here any time today.”

Of course, Truett was bluffing. He hadn’t heard from either his father or Judge Richardson.

“Will,” Celia spoke up, her shoulders back and her chin high, “go hitch up the wagon. I will not have Truett walking or riding a horse with his injury.” She crossed her arms and glared at the sheriff. “Though it is slight . . . a slight injury. Not serious at all.”

Truett almost laughed at her clumsy attempt to make the sheriff think he wasn’t hurt bad. Not only was she high strung, she could spit fire, too. And it was more fun to watch when it was directed at someone besides him.

Celia made the sheriff wait until she had fixed blankets and pillows for Truett to rest on in the back of the wagon. When she told the sheriff she had one more pillow to get, he yelled at her and jumped up onto the seat. Truett squeezed her wrist and whispered, “I’m not hurt that bad. A slight injury, remember?”

She sat down beside Truett and his nest of blankets. “Sheriff, you may go now.”

Suggs grumbled under his breath, spit a long stream of tobacco juice at the dirt, then set the horses in motion.

At least James and Almira had gotten away.

Once they arrived at the jail, Celia refused to go home. She gave Truett all the blankets and quilts, pushing them between the bars, since the sheriff wouldn’t let her carry them into his cell herself. Then she settled herself on the floor and leaned against the wall next to his cell. She said she just wanted to make sure the sheriff didn’t do anything to him on the sly. Truett thought about telling her that if the sheriff wanted to kill him, there wouldn’t be anything she could do about it. But he decided against it.

The sheriff locked the cell and walked out, leaving them alone.

“Is your side hurting you?” Celia asked.

Truett was propped up, half-lying, half-sitting on the cot, the scent of mildew and sweat rising from the thin straw mattress. “No, not much.”

“Can I run over to your office and get you something? Some medicine?”

“Later I’ll need to change my bandage. You can go get some things for me then.”

She brightened. “Of course.”

After they’d been there for an hour or so, Sheriff Suggs came back in. He thrust out his chest and wore a satisfied smirk.

“It looks like there’s going to be a hanging after all.”

Celia sat up straighter. Truett waited for the sheriff to say more.

“I’ll be hanging the Hartleys before sunset.”

Celia gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

“It seems they thought they could hide out in an old shack in the woods, but I found ‘em. Got ‘em tied up outside.”

Celia sprang to her feet and looked out the window. “Oh, you’re horrible! Those men don’t deserve to die just because they opened a store. And it’s against the law for you to hang them without a trial. What kind of beast are you?”

“You look a-here, missy. I’ve had enough of your mouth.” He shook his finger in Celia’s face.

Truett wished he could break that finger. He stood to his feet and walked to the other side of his cell.

“She’s right, Suggs. You won’t get away with it this time. The authorities—”

“Shut up!”

Truett shrugged, feigning indifference. “All right. But the hooded horseman will probably stop you again.”

“You’re the hooded horseman!” Suggs roared, stalking toward him.

Suggs grabbed the bars and Truett stepped back, not wanting to encounter his foul breath.

“You’re the hooded horseman, and you’ll hang for it. Nothing can save you. You assaulted a sheriff and his deputy. You shot at a lawman, and you’ll hang. Not even your daddy or his judge friend can save you.”

Truett regretted the sheriff had said those words in front of Celia. She turned white as cotton. He hoped she didn’t faint on this stone floor. He couldn’t catch her and she might hit her head.

“Celia, go sit down.”

She didn’t obey, but the color came back in her cheeks as she glared at the sheriff. “You’re an evil man. If you hurt those men or Truett . . .” She appeared to be trying to think of something, clenching and unclenching her hands by her sides. Finally, she blurted, “God’s going to punish you!”

“So I’m going to hell?” Suggs laughed an ugly belly laugh. He continued laughing as he sauntered out the door.

Celia approached him, her eyes locked on his. He went to her, his heart twisting as she reached through the bars and put her hands around him. He drew her as close as he could. She rested her forehead against his chest, her cheek pressed against a bar.

“I’m so sorry about this,” he whispered in her ear. “I behaved foolishly. I should have written Judge Richardson a long time ago.”

“It’s not your fault. You were just trying to do the right thing. Who knows if the judge will even respond to our letters?”

A hitch in her voice told him she was crying. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

“Hey, now, don’t cry. Of course the judge will respond. The sheriff is probably bluffing. The townspeople will finally stand up to him and keep him—” . . . from hanging Sam and Isaac. He stopped himself from finishing the sentence. He didn’t want to remind her. Besides, it was almost too painful to say out loud. After all, if Truett hadn’t interfered, the men would have lost their store in the fire, yes, but they’d at least be alive tonight, instead of possibly. . .

“Let’s pray, Celia. Pray for a miracle.”

Celia nodded and closed her eyes. Truett whispered a plea for God to save Sam and Isaac from getting hanged by Suggs. “God, we need a miracle.”

Celia was still crying. He dabbed at her cheeks until she took the handkerchief away from him and wiped her nose.

She looked up and took his shirt in her fists, gazing intently into his eyes. “I love you, Truett. No matter what happens, I love you, and I think you’re the most wonderful man in the world. God has shown me how wrong I was, how twisted and confused my thinking had become. Nothing is more important to me than loving you. And I just want you to know that.”

Truett’s slid his hand behind her neck and he kissed her lips. He longed to pull her closer, but the bars prevented it.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re so beautiful when you tell me you love me.”

She gave him a shaky smile. “Is that the only time I’m beautiful?”

“No. You’re also beautiful when you smile, and when you’re mad at me, and when you’re yelling at Suggs, and even when you cry. You’re beautiful all the time . . . especially when you’ve just been kissed.”

She caught her breath and stared at his lips.

The sound of a door squeaking on its hinges forced them apart. Truett winced when his mother walked in. Would she break down at seeing him injured and in jail? But when his father followed right behind her, his heart soared as hope filled his lungs.

“Mr. Beverly!” Celia gasped, relieved at the sight of Truett’s father. The man was a strong presence and carried himself with a cool aloofness that commanded respect. But somehow Mrs. Beverly’s panicked clucking and hovering also calmed her. Celia leaned against the wall while Truett reassured his mother that everything would be all right. His father, on the other hand, stood stoically glaring into space, limiting his words to short, half sentences about not tolerating these outrages.

Celia continued sending up silent prayers for the miracle they needed, the miracle that would save Annie’s family, her father and uncle, and Truett too. God was making a way to rescue them, she was sure of it. She only hoped He would hurry, since Sam and Isaac’s time was very short otherwise.

After the passing of perhaps another hour, Grady Skidmore, who’d helped them fell their leaning tree, burst through the door.

Truett moved to the edge of his cell. “What is it?”

Celia’s stomach sank. Had Annie Hartley’s father and uncle been hanged already?

“I’ve got news. And it’s not good, I’m afraid.”

“Let’s hear it.” Mr. Beverly demanded.

“The Hartleys didn’t get lynched. Someone came and rescued them.”

“Who?” Truett asked.

“The hooded horseman.”

“What?” Celia glanced at Truett. How could that be?

“The bad news is that the hooded horseman was . . . well . . . Suggs shot him.”

Celia held her breath as she waited for him to continue.

“Who?” Truett gripped the bars, his knuckles turning white. “Who was it, man?”

“It was Griff.”