Eli Dawson wasn't a fool.
He knew walking into the Silver Star Mining Company's offices alone was suicide. But he also knew that refusing Roderick Bell's "invitation" would be just as deadly—just slower.
So he went armed.
His Colt Peacemaker rested heavy on his hip, freshly cleaned and loaded. A second revolver was tucked into his boot, and the knife he'd bought off a drunk trapper sat snug against his forearm under his sleeve. Holloway had clapped him on the shoulder before he left, his voice low.
*"Don't draw unless you mean to kill. And if you do kill, make damn sure it's the right man."*
Lena had said nothing. Just pressed a folded note into his palm. He didn't open it until he was halfway to the company offices.
*"Bell's weakness? He thinks he's smarter than everyone. Prove him wrong."*
Eli burned the note.
---
### **The Office**
The Silver Star Mining Company headquarters was a deceptively plain building—no ornate carvings, no gilded letters, just a sturdy wooden sign swinging in the evening wind. But the two armed men flanking the door made it clear this wasn't some backwater operation.
One of them, a slab-faced brute with a shotgun cradled in his arms, stepped forward as Eli approached.
"You Dawson?"
Eli nodded.
The man smirked. "He's expecting you."
The inside of the building was a different world. Polished oak floors, gas lamps casting a warm glow over leather chairs and shelves of ledgers. A far cry from the dust-choked streets outside.
At the far end of the room, behind a desk that looked like it had been hauled straight from a Boston banker's office, sat Roderick Bell.
The man was taller than he'd seemed in the photograph—lean as a whip, his suit immaculate, his fingers steepled under his chin. His hair was steel-gray, his eyes pale and calculating. He didn't stand as Eli entered.
"Mr. Dawson." His voice was smooth, almost amused. "I've heard so much about you."
Eli didn't sit. "Doubt it's been good."
Bell chuckled. "No. But interesting." He gestured to the chair opposite him. "Sit. Let's talk."
Eli sat.
---
### **The Game**
Bell poured two glasses of whiskey from a crystal decanter, sliding one across the desk. Eli didn't touch it.
Bell noticed. He smiled. "Afraid I'll poison you?"
"Afraid it's cheap whiskey."
That earned a genuine laugh. "You've got spine. I'll give you that." Bell leaned back. "Tell me, why did a Columbia-educated lawyer come to a place like Silver Ridge?"
Eli kept his expression neutral. "Heard the weather was nice."
"And the opportunities?"
"Plenty. Especially for men who don't mind bending the law."
Bell's smile didn't waver, but his eyes cooled. "You think I bend the law?"
"I think you own it."
Silence.
Then Bell set his glass down. "You robbed one of my shipments."
"I delayed it," Eli corrected. "Until Josiah Pike gets paid for his well."
Bell's fingers tapped the desk. "That well was on Silver Star land."
"Prove it."
"I don't have to." Bell's voice was soft. "I own the judge who'd rule on it."
Eli held his gaze. "Not this judge."
Bell studied him for a long moment. Then he sighed, as if disappointed. "You're not here to negotiate, are you?"
"No."
"Then why are you here?"
Eli leaned forward. "To see the man who thinks he owns this town."
Bell's smile returned, colder now. "I don't *think* I own it, Mr. Dawson. I do."
---
### **The Trap**
The door behind Eli creaked open. He didn't turn, but he heard the footsteps—heavy, deliberate.
Cade Varro stepped into view, his massive frame blocking the exit. His knuckles were bruised, his grin vicious.
"Told you he'd be stupid enough to come," Varro said.
Bell sighed. "Cade, please. We're having a conversation."
Varro spat on the floor. "Conversation's over."
Eli's hand drifted toward his Colt.
Bell noticed. "I wouldn't."
Eli glanced out the window. Two more armed men stood in the street, rifles loose in their hands.
Trapped.
Bell steepled his fingers again. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to walk out of here. You're going to tell Holloway to drop the Pike case. And then you're going to get on the next train out of Silver Ridge."
Eli didn't move. "And if I don't?"
Bell's smile faded. "Then I'll hang you with the law you love so much." He slid a piece of paper across the desk—a warrant, already signed, accusing Eli of theft and assault.
Eli stared at it. The sheriff's signature was scrawled at the bottom.
Lena had been right. Bell owned the law.
---
### **The Escape**
Eli stood slowly.
Varro tensed, hand on his gun.
Bell waved him off. "Let him go. For now."
Eli walked to the door, then paused. "You made one mistake, Bell."
Bell raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"You assumed I'd run."
Then he stepped into the night.
Varro followed him out, his voice a growl. "This ain't over, lawyer."
Eli didn't look back. "No. It's not."
---
### **The Plan**
Lena was waiting at his rented room, her face tight with tension. She took one look at him and knew.
"He threatened you."
Eli nodded, tossing the warrant onto the table. "He's got the sheriff in his pocket. And a judge in Benton who'll rubber-stamp any charge he wants."
Lena picked up the warrant, her jaw clenched. "Then we hit him where it hurts."
"Where's that?"
"His money." She met his eyes. "The silver shipment. The one you delayed? It's leaving tomorrow. Guarded by half of Varro's men."
Eli frowned. "You're suggesting we rob it?"
"I'm suggesting we *take* it." Her smile was sharp. "And use it to bury him."
---