Back in his office, a fresh shirt clinging to his frame after a hasty wash, Smith delved into the collection of reports detailing the recent accidents. The rustling of papers was interrupted by the creaking of his office door. Smith, caught off guard, turned with a stern reprimand on his lips, expecting to see the eager face of Jasper. Instead, he found himself face to face with a specter from the past—Luke Cord.

The room, already dimly lit, seemed to darken further as Cord's imposing figure stepped in. A voice hardened by years of smoking cut through the air, greeting Smith with an unsettling familiarity. "Well hello to you too, Edward."

Smith's breath caught in his throat as he beheld the man he had long dreaded. Cord's shadow loomed over the room, a stark reminder of a history best left buried. The faint rumble of thunder outside added a discordant note to the encounter, as if the very heavens recognized the gravity of the moment.

The broad man, removing a black hat to reveal unruly dark brown hair untouched by the rain, surveyed the office with a practiced eye. His tone, once a harsh symphony in the ears of outlaws, now played the role of a diplomatic envoy. "Nice little office you have here. I see the town is expanding too."

Smith remained paralyzed, his papers hanging limply in his hands. Cord, shedding a soaked raincoat and slinging a small saddlebag over his shoulder, walked towards the window. The commander's mind raced, grappling with conflicting images. Cord did not look the way Smith remembered—no guns, refined clothing, a hint of affluence. The years with the council seemed to have altered him, softened the edges.

"Looks like you've been doing well for yourself," Cord remarked, his crystal blue eyes burning into Smith's, cutting through the fog of disbelief. The weight of those words, layered with unspoken history, settled heavily in the room.

The query about the reports, a seemingly benign request, snapped Smith out of his stupor. He hesitated before reluctantly handing over the papers, his fingers betraying the inner turmoil that the mere presence of Cord had stirred. The unspoken truth lingered in the air, a silent acknowledgment of a meeting that Smith had both feared and dreaded.

As Cord scrutinized the documents, tension hung heavy in the air. Smith's question echoed through the room, reverberating with the weight of years gone by.

“Why are you here?”

“I was asked to.” Cord's voice remained steady, his eyes focused on the papers laid out before him.

“That’s nonsense. They can’t make you do anything.”

“No, they can’t. Are those…” Cord gestured to the papers on the desk and took them as well.

“Then why the hell are you here? On this very day!” The pain in Smith's left arm intensified, throbbing with each heartbeat.

Cord glanced up from the papers, his jaws tightening as he weighed his words carefully. "You've got a string of unfortunate incidents happening, Ed." He scratched at the beginnings of a beard, eyes returning to the papers.

Smith's heart pounded heavily, the anticipated explosion of anger replaced by an eerie calm that unsettled him. “Luke, spare me the cryptic routine. What's your true agenda here? The council could've dispatched anyone for this job. Why did they send you specifically?”

Cord didn't look up; instead, he dropped the papers on the desk and rummaged through the saddlebag. Smith's muscles tensed, anticipating the draw of a weapon that could unleash a storm of revenge. Instead, Cord produced a carefully folded package.

“I…,” Cord began as he unfolded it, laying it on top of the papers. “…received this a few weeks back.” He met Smith's gaze, disbelief imprinted across his face as he eyed the bloodied feathers. “Does it ring any bells?” Cord picked up a few documents and quoted, “Drowned while fishing. Broken feathers in pocket.” Moving to the next document, he continued, “Mentioned to have seen feathers with blood hanging at the porch.”

Smith lifted one of the two eagle feathers, the dried blood adding a macabre touch. “How about this one: died due to falling on his own pen? I know people who tripped on the street and broke their skull, but this… this is a little too accidental.”

Cord narrowed his eyes. “You are not luring me in an accident, are you?”

“How did you get these?” Cord slammed the papers back on the desk, taking a deep breath.

"Have the years eroded your common sense? That's what I'm trying to figure out. And, by the way…” Cord retrieved a small, dirty doll from the saddlebag. “I ordered your men to start looking for a child. Trust me, Ed, you do not want to lose another one on this day.” The air crackled with unresolved history, leaving Smith to grapple with the unsettling truth.

“I did not lose her! I did my damned best to keep her safe.”

“Well, it obviously wasn't enough, was it?” Cord's retort was sharp, the bitterness in his tone echoing the unresolved pain of the past.

“Don’t think I didn’t … Eli was like a daughter…” Smith attempted to retract his words, realizing the weight of his confession, but it was too late. Cord's face darkened, veins tensing up with repressed anger.

“She wasn't yours to claim, Ed!” Cord's accusation hung heavy in the air. Smith tried to find words to mend the wound, but Cord pressed his lips together, preventing any further utterance. The anger and blame carved in Cord's eyes said everything. He breathed heavily, pacing back to the window, the burden of the past still lingering, a rift that time had failed to heal.

In the charged aftermath, Smith's gaze bore into the doll, a chill of recognition sweeping over him like a haunting whisper.

"This can't be." Cord's eyes snapped back to Smith as he deftly sliced open the doll's belly.

"What are you doing?" Cord's breath caught as he glimpsed the ring.

"Trying to deceive me, Smith? By the heavens, if you..."

"Never. Not like this." Disbelief deepened across Smith's face as he settled into his chair. "Not like this." He mumbled, turning the ring to unveil the engraved L and H.

"It's hers." With a trembling hand, he passed it to Cord, who fell into uneasy silence, muscles taut, eyes narrowed in thought.

"How did you know?" Cord took a deep breath as his eyes caught the engraving. "Can't be a coincidence. Not today." He looked back at Smith, who sat motionless, staring at his desk.

"We can't tell anyone. Send out your men to search for a missing girl."

A deep frown grew on Smith's face, followed by a fist crushing loudly on the wooden desk. "We can't sit on this. We've got a lead after all these years. I'll use all my resources, question everyone, find out who..."

"Calm down, Ed. You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment. We can't trust anyone, not even your men. If those responsible find out we're on to them, they might vanish before we get answers. Let the townsfolk think a girl is missing. Meanwhile, you and I will conduct discreet investigations. No one else gets involved until we have concrete information."

"This is my wife..." Smith swallowed the words as he met Cord's strong gaze. "Laura and Eliana, we're talking about," he continued lowering his head. "I can't stand by and play this covert game. We need to act, and we need to act now. I won't let their fates be decided by shadowy figures. I owe it to them."

"I get it." With some surprise, Smith looked up. Cord's face was difficult to read, but it surely did not show a hint of rage after his unfortunate words.

"But acting recklessly will make things worse. We don't know who we're up against. This might be a trap, a ploy to force us out into the open. We need to be smart, play our cards right."

"I can't pretend nothing happened, Cord. I took three bullets trying to prevent them from being taken. I almost lost an eye." He pointed at the scar in his brow to emphasize his point. "I can't sit around while someone out there might hold the key. I won't let fear dictate our actions."

Cord, still holding the ring, leaned in, trying to subdue Smith's anger. "It's not fear dictating my actions; it's experience. We've both seen what these shadows can do. We need to be patient, methodical. We owe it to them to bring justice, but rushing in blindly won't achieve that."

Smith, fire burning in his eyes, blinked after a few heartbeats, followed by a deep sigh. Cord nodded approvingly, stepping back to the window.

"We should still inform Blayke. This is too significant to hold from him or... you know who I mean."

"No, we can't." Cord's voice cracked, and when Smith looked up, he could see him leaning to the wall, contemplating.

"Ed..." he started, looking down. Some strings of his wild hair got past his ear, partially covering his face like some random outlaw. "You can't involve the council. Not yet. We don't know who's behind this, and we can't risk interference. The council might have eyes and ears we can't account for."

"Who are you accusing? You work for them; we both do. Blayke, Haynes – I've known them for a long time. And you've been working for the whole council for how many years now?"

Cord looked up, clearly hearing the disdain in Smith's tone. "I've been working with the Tuckerdale council, yes, but I've not been working for them. Listen, Ed." He pressed his lips and looked at the ring again. A final contemplation if he should really reveal what was on his mind. "I joined them because I don't trust them." Smith was about to interrupt. "I've been gathering information, trying to figure out if they know more than they let on. Nobody stays hidden from me for this long. Someone with a lot of power is actively hiding the truth. Power that the council possesses."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I don't have any proof, Ed. I need to be sure before I can take any actions."

"Like Tancliff?" "Yes, like Tancliff, how do you even know I was... It doesn't matter. Look, finding this doll and the ring might finally shed some light. But involving the council now could jeopardize everything."

Smith ran both hands through his hair. "We can't keep everyone in the dark."

"I understand your loyalty to Blayke, but we need to be cautious." Cord pushed him off the wall and hid the ring in his hand. "There is a boy coming over." This time Jasper did wait for the confirmation.

"You asked to inform you, sir." His bright eyes started to shine even more when he noticed Cord by the window. "The lady asked for a meal." He glanced over again and met his idol's crystal blue eyes. "Thank you, Jasper; that will be all."

Smith stood up and gathered the reports on the murders. When the boy did not leave, he called out again. "I'm sorry, sir?" "You can go." With a quick nod and another look at Cord, he ran off.

"How old is he? Ten?" "You'll be wanting these if we don't want to let people know. I'll, in the meantime, have another talk with Miss Hattygam." Cord watched the boy vanish in the streets. "Oh, I'm not giving up on investigating those murders of yours."

He dislodged himself from the window and held out the ring as he took the documents. "No. You keep it."

"Are you sure?" Smith ignored the hand and opened a locked drawer from the cabin behind him. "Technically, it is yours. You gave it to her."

"I did... well, if you don't mind, I'll have that chat with the lady so you can organize the search for the lost child." Smith turned around, a small box in his hand.

"Right. The search. By the way..." Smith placed the box on the desk as Cord put the documents in the saddlebag. "Is it true you stopped carrying a weapon?" Cord just looked at him. "Then maybe you should take this." He opened the box to reveal a shiny new Schofield.

"This is not like you. Do you fear for my safety now, Edward?"

"It is not for your safety." He placed another box with bullets next to it.

"I have to say, I did not believe it when they said you lost control, but you offering this..."

"You pissed off a lot of people, Cord. Putting a gun on you will make them think twice before doing something that might ruin everything we've built here. And, to be honest, I'm one of them."

The sight of the Schofield made the former gunman stroke his fingers, itching to touch it. "You don't need to use it, just carry it."

"They will know you were the one giving it to me." "Just take it." "They'll blame you if I do need to use it."

"Will you just take the bloody gun? I don't want half the town shooting at you because they think you've gone soft. Skip on the bullets if you want to." Before Smith could take them away, Cord already reached for them, and together with the Schofield, they disappeared in the bag.

"We both have things to do then." Cord took his belongings and before leaving he remembered something. "You never answered how you knew the ring would be in the doll."

Smith hesitated, meeting Cord's piercing gaze. "Because I told her to, after the newspaper stated you had died."