...defeat the whole purpose? But... there was no telling when or how the Moores might strike back. He couldn''t risk his family''s safety on a gamble. Carlson was torn.


    Seeing his dilemma, Corley didn''t press the issue. Everyone has their own path to walk; an observer can offer advice, but shouldn''t interfere.


    That night, Carlson, unsurprisingly, couldn''t sleep.


    Meanwhile, Roseanne, Scales, and Mamie checked into a hotel in town with Owen Reynolds and Corley. The amodations were modest, but none of them paid much attention. They were all more concerned with what Carlson would decide.


    "Still awake?" Roseanne had been sitting in the lobby, staring out the window into the endless night, lost in thought. A man''s voice broke her reverie, and she turned with a start.


    "Mr. Reynolds," she said with a smile when she saw who it was. "You''re upte too."


    "Couldn''t sleep," Owen said.


    "Thinking about Carlson?"


    "You too?" she asked, and he gave a slight nod.


    "You were very quiet earlier," Owen observed. "Did you have some reservations about the advice?"


    Roseanne was silent for a moment. Just when Owen thought she wouldn''t answer, she spoke.


    "I just feel like it''s wrong."


    He looked at her, puzzled. "What''s wrong?"


    "When we were trying to find a solution for Carlson, our starting point seemed to be how to avoid the Moores'' revenge. But why should they have to avoid it? Are the Smiths the ones in the wrong? The Moores were the ones who tried to force the sale and who hurt people. But in the end, the victims are the ones being told to run and hide. Doesn''t that seem ridiculous?"


    The Moores were the criminals, not the Smiths. Why should they be the ones to flee? She felt Corley''s logic was wed. And yet, given the uncertainty of whether the Moores would face further justice, moving away did seem like the most practical solution. But... the thought of it left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was just so unfair.


    "Sometimes," Owen said quietly, "a strategic retreat isn''t about running away. It''s about giving the bullet a little more time to fly."


    "Is that it?" Roseanne looked at him, startled.


    His perspective was so different from Corley''s, who had told her earlier-


    "Whether the Moores ultimately get what''sing to them is irrelevant. In a ce like this, with poor infrastructure limited information, and a backward-looking culture, there will always be darkness. There will always be bullies."


    "If it wasn''t the Moores, it would be the Joneses, or the Browns. Wherever you have people, you have power ys. We can''t change the system, so the best we can do is get ourselves out of it."


    "You might think I''m being cold, but that''s the reality. You have to look out for yourself. The Smiths were going to leave this ce eventually anyway, so whats the difference if it''s sooner orter?"


    "I was just advising him to take the most logical path."


    Roseanne had listened, but it still hadn''t felt right. She just couldn''t put her finger on why.


    shouldn''t It felt like people


    give in so easily. They


    shouldn''t let the storm dictate their course.


    Now, Owen''s words had illuminated everything.


    "Thank you, Professor! I understand now!" she eximed, her mood instantly lifted.


    She cheerfully headed upstairs to her room.


    Owen remained seated, a bewildered expression on his face. What did she understand?


    The lights in the Smith family''s main room stayed on all night.


    The next morning, when Owen and the others returned, it was clear that Mr. Smith and Carlson had reached a decision.


    "Mr. Reynolds, Mr. Sullivan," Carlson began, "my father and I have decided—"