“A savage!”
Eliza’s jaw set like granite. Her eyes never left the man in chains. “Call him ‘savage’ all you want,” she said, voice steady as a fence line. “I see a man worth saving.”
For the first time, something flickered in the prisoner’s face. Surprise, perhaps. Or something deeper—buried under years of being handled like a problem instead of a person.
Sheriff McCrae shifted, his showman’s ease slipping. “Mrs. Hartman, I got a responsibility to this town.”
“And you have a responsibility to the law,” Eliza cut in. “The judge said he was to be sold. I’m buying him. Unless you’re telling me my money’s no good because I’m a woman.”
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