Chapter 26Katharina wasn’t the one the five men were after. It was me. But when they couldn’t find me, they decided to take Katharina to use as bait.
That was the first revelation. Next was who the men were. The man who had dragged Katharina out of the house was Mason Bledsoe, son of Nate Bledsoe, the man I had killed in 1889 on my family’s homestead in Western Kansas.
When I heard the name, my knees buckled and my heart raced for a moment.
It can’t be possible, I thought to myself. It’s been almost thirty years since that gun battle on our abandoned farm.
I looked down at the man with the shattered right arm. My instinct was to blow his head off right then, but I needed more information from him.
“What’s your name?” I asked, poking his midsection with the shotgun. “From now on you’ll
