Page 29 of Outlawed

Shepard takes a step forward, his eyes moving over me in question. I give him a nod, permission if you will, which he accepts and nods back.

“What are you talking about?” someone asks. But there is no hostility in their tone, only confusion.

“Fifteen years ago, I went to prison for shooting and killing my father, Martin Hart. All of you know this. Some of you were even in the courtroom the day I was sentenced. I’m curious. Did any of you go to his funeral?”

When nobody replies, I feel my lips twitch. “I’ve never fired a gun in my life.” I let that drop and hear the whispers circulate the room. “And I never shot my father. Dale did. Only it was all part of some elaborate plan to take the ranch from me.”

I look around and see some people still aren’t getting it.

“Martin Hart faked his own death, spent an ungodly amount of money covering it up and getting surgery. He became Mark Porter.”

Now the room explodes into a fuck-ton of noise and chaos. I look at my friends' shell-shocked faces and wonder if I should have taken them aside and explained it first. Jen’s expression is blank, making it impossible for me to read her.

Shepard walks down the aisle to me and whistles loudly to get everyone’s attention. “We will be exhuming Martin Porter’s grave and conducting a full investigation. A lot of the original players are dead, including the coroner who signed off on his death as homicide and the judge who presided over the flimsy case. As you can see, it is imperative that we find him. If anyone has any information about his whereabouts, please get in touch with me or one of my deputies. He has a lot of questions to answer to.”

Judy stands up from the back of the crowd, making my lips curl into a snarl. “They said your daddy raped you,” she states, making people gasp at this woman’s audacity.

“Sit the hell down,” Sarah snaps, getting to her feet.

“You don’t understand. This woman is lying.”

“That’s fucking rich coming from you,” Henry yells, making Judy blush furiously.

My eyes move to Austin, who swallows in preparation for me to spill the truth, but he doesn’t run. He stands there ready to face whatever comes his way.

I let my eyes drift closed for a moment before I open my mouth and lie my ass off. “Not that it’s any of your business, Judy, but no, my father didn’t rape me, though clearly he was capable of it.” My eyes lock on Austin. “Andy Dyer raped me.” In a way, he did. He raped both of us, so it doesn’t feel like a complete lie.

People turn to look at Austin, who walks slowly toward me.

“I never told anybody. What was the point? People would have decided it was my fault one way or another, so I let sleeping dogs lie.”

Austin steps up beside me as Riggs moves close, so I’m flanked on all sides by my guys. It’s Austin who speaks next, casting his gaze around the room, daring anyone to say something. “Andy is dead. And I won’t mourn him for a second. I’m angry. So fucking angry, and you should be too. What if Calliope had been your daughter, your sister, or friend? This whole town failed her. Each and every one of us who stood by and did nothing, who said nothing—should be ashamed of ourselves. I know I am. That she stands here now, shoulders back, head held high after what we did?” He shakes his head.

“She lost her friend and, instead of burning this fucking place to the ground as I would have, she gave it beauty. She gave it peace. We don’t deserve her. We never did. But the fact that she’s here now, willing not just to stay and deal with all our bullshit but to try to make things better? It’s time to show up, to step up, and show her it’s worth it. That she’s worth it because I swear, when she cares about you, your world becomes infinitely brighter.”

I look at Austin in surprise before he takes a step back. “Anyone who was here when Dawn was killed would have seen what happened. What I’m capable of.”

“You’re a witch,” Judy snarls.

I look at her, owning it. “Yes.”

“Better than being a bitch. Sit the hell down, Judy,” someone else says. A whole lot of people seem to agree. Judy goes bright red and sits down.

“I am a witch. I can’t stop being one just because it might freak some of you out. Though it’s worth pointing out, I came into my powers when I was sixteen. Most of you have been assholes to me, and yet I haven’t hurt a single one of you. Being a witch doesn’t make me evil. It just means I’m always armed. But this is cowboy country, so aren’t we all armed?”

Laughter fills the room, and the tightness in my chest eases some.

I pause as someone stands up. He’s vaguely familiar, like I’ve seen him around, perhaps, but I’ve never spoken to him.

“My daughter has migraines. They’re debilitating. She misses days and weeks of work. Doctors haven’t been able to do anything for her. She ordered something from you, and she hasn’t had a migraine in a month. I don’t care if you’re a witch or a magician. I can’t remember the last time I saw my daughter’s smile, at least one that wasn’t full of pain.”

“You’re Amber’s dad?” I say softly.

He nods and smiles at me proudly.

“You helped my Agnus too,” someone says, as a bunch of people stand up and shout out how I helped them all. I feel myself getting teary-eyed again, but I manage to fight them back.

“I guess what we’re trying to say,” Doyle starts, surprising me because he usually lets his wife do the talking. “Is that you’re ours. And we learn from our mistakes. You’ve seen us at our worst. But if you give us a chance, we can show you there’s good here too and that you were right to come home. We need you. That much is obvious, but I think, maybe just a little bit of you needs us too.”