Chapter 8: The Price of Treachery

The moment Steward Grainger rode back into the canyon, the morning after Elara’s attempted flight, the cold, clear focus that had sustained him fractured. He had faced down the external threat of Jedediah Shaw with words, and those words had been proved meaningless by the depth of his daughter’s fear. He had been a fool, relying on legal warning when he should have relied on absolute power. His promise to protect his family was not worth the air it took to speak it if he did not enforce it with ruthless finality. The girls had been under his roof for eight months—time enough for trust to bloom—but Shaw’s one vile visit had validated every trauma they had endured. That foundation of trust had to be made unbreakable.

Steward rode Justice so hard to Tucson that the powerful gelding was lathered and steaming by the time they reached the capital. Steward didn’t stop at the livery; he tied the horse directly to a hitching post outside the office of Silas Kroll, the fine leather of his saddle creaking in the early morning sun. His entrance into the law office was not that of a client, but a general deploying his forces.

Kroll looked up, startled by the fury radiating from his wealthiest client. The lawyer rose half-out of his chair. “Steward, what in the devil—”

“Shaw,” Steward cut him off, his voice low, vibrating with controlled rage. He didn’t bother with the map this time; he slammed the heavy, folded Indenture Contract down onto the pristine desk blotter, the sound sharp and final. “He rode onto my ranch and threatened my family. He offered to buy Miya. I warned him off, but a warning isn’t enough. I need him destroyed, Silas. Legally, financially, permanently.”

Kroll nervously adjusted his spectacles, his fingers trembling slightly as he picked up the contract. “Steward, that is heavy action for a simple trespass. It’s vengeance, not justice. And it’s expensive.”

“It is not vengeance, Silas, it is preemptive defense. And it is not expensive when the commodity being purchased is the safety of my children,” Steward emphasized, leaning over the desk until his face was inches from the lawyer’s. “I need to make this ranch impenetrable. Any man who thinks he can challenge my guardianship must lose his ranch, his reputation, and his shirt. I want him ruined by the end of the week.”

Steward’s mind was clear and strategic, operating far outside the gentlemanly codes he usually adhered to. He dictated the terms of Shaw’s ruin, leveraging every asset and every debt.