Joseph stared at the bandages around her wrists.
One of the riders appeared behind him.
The man went white.
The other remained by the table, frozen with a cup halfway to his mouth.
Joseph recovered first.
“You should not have come back here.”
“This is my home too.”
“Not anymore.”
Sylvie nodded once.
“That may be the first honest thing you’ve said to me.”
The man with the black braid stepped onto the porch carrying the sign beneath one arm.
Joseph noticed it.
His face changed again.
Only slightly.
But Sylvie saw it.
So did the riders.
Joseph’s gaze snapped toward them before returning to her.
Sylvie entered the cabin.
Nobody tried to stop her.
She placed the board on the table with the insult facing upward.
One rider looked away.
Joseph did not.
“I warned you,” he said.
“You brought shame into this house.”
Sylvie turned the board over.
Her father stopped breathing.
The dead man’s message faced the room.
SYLVIE.
DRY CREEK.
SUNDOWN.
I’LL WAIT.
The cup slipped from the rider’s hand and struck the table.
Joseph looked at him sharply.
Sylvie noticed.
That was enough.
She placed both palms against the table despite the pain in her wrists.
“How did you get this?”
Joseph’s mouth hardened.
“Found it.”
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“He was dead.
There was rubbish everywhere.”
The man with the black braid moved one step forward.
“No.”
Joseph looked at him.
“I carried my brother from the dry creek myself.
That board was not there.”
Joseph said nothing.
The man continued.
“I watched him carve it before he left.
He took it to Sylvie.
She never saw it.
You possessed it.”
The rider nearest the door shifted his weight.
