Maren opened the door four inches.
Silas Creed stood outside beneath a black oilskin coat.
Two men waited behind him.
All three carried rifles.
“Evening, Mrs. Vale.”
“It’s Miss Vale.”
Creed smiled.
Maren had disliked that smile since the first time she had seen it at the trading post.
It wasn’t warm.
It was the smile of a man who enjoyed knowing other people had fewer choices than he did.
“Heard someone came up this road,” Creed said.
“People use roads.”
“Not many people tonight.”
Lightning flickered.
Maren kept her body in the opening so Creed couldn’t see inside.
“Looking for somebody?”
Creed’s eyes traveled past her shoulder.
“A worker.”
“What kind?”
“Big one.”
Maren stared at him.
“You’re going to need to narrow that down.”
One of the men behind Creed chuckled.
Creed didn’t.
“Name’s Torin Hale.”
Behind Maren, the cabin remained completely silent.
“What did he do?”
“Stole from the company.”
“What?”
“Money.”
“How much?”
Creed’s smile disappeared.
“That important?”
“If you’re asking me whether I’ve seen a thief, I like knowing what kind of thief.”
Creed stepped closer.
Maren didn’t move.
“Twenty-eight dollars.”
She blinked.
Three armed men were climbing a mountain during a storm over twenty-eight dollars?
“That’s a determined accounting department.”
The younger man behind Creed laughed again.
Creed turned.
One look silenced him.
Then Creed faced Maren.
“He’s dangerous.”
“How dangerous?”
“Put two men in the infirmary.”
Maren remembered the bruises covering Torin’s ribs and arms.
“Maybe they deserved it.”
Creed’s eyes narrowed.
“You seen him?”
“No.”
It was the first outright lie she had spoken in years.
Strangely, it came easily.
Creed stared at her for a long moment.
Then he placed one gloved hand against the door.
“Mind if we look?”
“Yes.”
His fingers tightened.
“We’re trying to protect folks.”
“Then start by leaving one alone.”
The humor vanished from his face.
Maren lifted the revolver enough for him to see it.
Creed looked down.
“You know how to use that?”
“My former husband left me many disappointments. Fortunately, he also left ammunition.”
The younger man coughed to hide another laugh.
Creed’s face darkened.
Behind him, thunder rolled.
Finally, he stepped back.
“If Hale comes through here, don’t help him.”
Maren said nothing.
“He’s trouble.”
Creed turned toward the horses.
Then stopped.
“Oh, and Miss Vale?”
“Yes?”
“If you do see him, remember something.”
He looked straight into her eyes.
“Big men fall just as hard as little ones.”
Maren closed the door.
She waited until hoofbeats disappeared into the storm.
Only then did she lower the revolver.
Torin emerged from the shadow beside the stove.
“You lied.”
“So did he.”
“You don’t know that.”
Maren faced him.
“Did you steal twenty-eight dollars?”
Torin hesitated.
“No.”
“Did you put two men in the infirmary?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked away.
“Torin.”
“They were beating a boy.”
Maren stared at him.
“What boy?”
“Name’s Eli Carter. Sixteen.”
“Why were they beating him?”
“He wanted to leave.”
“That’s all?”
“At Blackstone, that’s enough.”
Torin slowly sat.
For several seconds he rubbed his palms together.
Maren waited.
Finally he said, “You ever been to that camp?”
“Once. Caleb tried working there.”
“How long?”
“Four days.”
Torin nodded.
“Smart man in at least one regard.”
Maren nearly smiled.
Then she remembered Caleb’s temper after those four days.
He had returned home furious, claiming Creed cheated every worker who stepped through the gates.
“Blackstone hires men who don’t have much family,” Torin continued. “Drifters. Immigrants. Boys from farms that failed. Pays company money instead of regular wages whenever they can. Charges for food. Charges for bunks. Charges for tools.”
“So the men stay in debt.”
“Exactly.”
Torin glanced at his bandaged arm.
“Some been there three years and somehow owe more than when they started.”
“That’s illegal.”
“Lots of things are illegal where nobody asks questions.”
Maren thought about Silas Creed standing outside her door.
“What happened with Eli?”
“He got a letter. His mother’s sick in Idaho. Wanted his wages so he could go home.”
“They refused?”
“Said he owed the camp twelve dollars.”
Torin’s jaw worked.
“He argued.”
“And they beat him.”
Torin nodded.
“I stopped them.”
“How?”
For the first time, embarrassment crossed his face.
“I may have thrown one man through a window.”
Maren raised an eyebrow.
“And the other?”
“Over a table.”
Despite everything, she laughed.
Torin looked surprised.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
That made her laugh harder.
The sound felt strange inside the cabin.
For two years laughter had seemed like something belonging to other homes.
When she stopped, Torin looked at her with a quiet expression that made her suddenly self-conscious.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“Forgot what that sounded like.”
“What?”
“Somebody laughing because of me who wasn’t laughing at me.”
Maren’s smile faded.
There it was again.
That glimpse of the wounds no bandage could cover.
“What happened after the fight?” she asked.
Torin told her.
Creed had ordered him locked in the equipment shed.
Three men beat him.
Not because they believed he had stolen money.
Because Torin had embarrassed the foreman in front of the workers.
“They used chains,” Torin said quietly. “Boots mostly.”
Maren thought about those bruises.
Her stomach turned.
“How did you escape?”
“One of the cooks helped me.”
“Where’s Eli?”
“Still there.”
Maren stared.
Torin’s face became hard.
“That’s why I have to go back.”
“No.”
His eyes lifted.
“No?”
“You can barely bend your arm. Creed knows you escaped. Three armed men are looking for you, and you plan to walk straight into their camp?”
“Eli’s there because of me.”
“Eli was there before you defended him.”
“He’ll be punished because I ran.”
“And if you return, you’ll both be punished.”
Torin stood.
“Can’t leave him.”
“You can if you’re planning something smarter than getting killed.”
Torin looked almost offended.
“I don’t get killed easy.”
“I noticed.”
Maren walked to the window.
Rainwater streaked the glass.
Twenty miles away, Blackstone Timber operated inside a mountain valley where the law rarely visited.
The nearest sheriff lived in Cedar Ridge, nearly a full day away by horse in good weather.
Creed probably counted on that isolation.
“What proof do you have?” she asked.
“Of what?”
“The company fraud. Beatings. Everything.”
Torin frowned.
“Men know.”
“Men who are afraid of Creed.”
“Yes.”
“Then their word may not be enough.”
Torin understood.
His shoulders dropped.
Maren thought.
“My former husband kept records.”
“Records of what?”
“He never trusted anyone who handled money. Especially after Blackstone cheated him.”
She crossed the cabin and pulled a wooden box from beneath her bed.
Inside were old receipts.
Bills.
Letters.
At the bottom sat a thin leather notebook.
Maren opened it.
“Caleb wrote down everything.”
Torin approached.
Pages contained lists of wages, charges, dates, names.
Torin’s expression changed.
“This is company accounting.”
“Copies of it.”
“How’d he get these?”
“He worked in Creed’s office for two days before going to the cutting crews.”
Torin scanned the page.
“These numbers…”
“What?”
“They prove it.”
“Prove what?”
“That Blackstone keeps two sets of records.”
He pointed.
“Caleb wrote down what workers earned. Here he wrote what Creed claimed they earned.”
Maren read more carefully.
The difference was obvious.
Men were being cheated by hundreds of dollars.
Torin looked at her.
“This could shut them down.”
A sound outside made them both turn.
Not hoofbeats.
Something lighter.
Footsteps.
Torin moved toward the door.
Maren raised the revolver again.
A weak knock followed.
Then a voice.
“Mr. Hale?”
Torin froze.
“Eli?”
He threw open the door.
A skinny teenage boy collapsed across the threshold.
Blood covered one side of his face.
Torin caught him before he hit the floor.
“Eli!”
The boy’s shirt was torn.
One boot was missing.
His lips were blue from cold.
“They know,” Eli gasped.
Torin carried him beside the stove.
“Know what?”
Eli’s terrified eyes found Maren.
“The notebook.”
Maren’s heart stopped.
“What notebook?”
“Creed knows Mrs. Vale’s husband copied the books.”
Maren slowly looked toward the box on her bed.
“How?”
Eli swallowed.
“Because Mr. Vale came back.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Maren stared at him.
“My husband?”
“Creed said he came through yesterday.”
“My former husband has been gone two years.”
“I heard them talking.”
Eli coughed.
“He told Creed everything.”
For a moment Maren couldn’t speak.
Caleb was back.
Not to apologize.
Not to repair what he had broken.
Not even to see whether Maren was alive.
He had returned to tell Silas Creed about the evidence hidden in her home.
Torin rose.
Maren had never seen rage settle over a person so quietly.
“They’re coming back.”
Eli nodded.
“Before morning.”
“How many?” Torin asked.
“Six. Maybe eight.”
Maren looked at the door.
Then at her leaking roof.
Her crooked table.
Her little unfinished home.
For two years it had been the place where she survived being abandoned.
Now men were coming to take even that.
Torin turned toward her.
“You leave tonight.”
“This is my house.”
“They’ll burn it if they need to.”
“Then I’ll put out the fire.”
“Maren.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“This ain’t stubbornness worth dying for.”
She stepped toward him.
“You ran because you protected someone weaker than you.”
“Yes.”
“And now you want me to run because someone stronger than me is coming.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t let them hurt you!”
The words shook the room.
Eli stared.
Maren stared too.
Torin immediately stepped backward.
His face changed.
“Sorry.”
He lowered his voice.
“I shouldn’t have shouted.”
Maren understood something then.
Torin wasn’t only afraid of being hurt.
He was afraid of becoming the kind of man who hurt others.
She reached for his hand.
He looked down at her fingers resting against his scarred knuckles.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said.
His eyes lifted.
“But you should be afraid of me if you think you’re sending me away from my own home.”
For the first time since he entered the cabin, Torin laughed.
Deep.
Rough.
Beautifully surprised.
Then Eli whispered from beside the stove.
“Maybe you don’t have to run.”
They turned.
The boy sat up slowly.
“There’s something Creed doesn’t know.”
Torin crouched beside him.
“What?”
Eli reached inside his torn shirt.
From beneath it, he pulled a folded piece of paper soaked with rain and blood.
“I took this before I escaped.”
Torin unfolded it.
Maren watched his eyes move across the page.
Then widen.
“What is it?” she asked.
Torin looked at her.
“The real Blackstone payroll.”
And written across the bottom was a signature.
Silas Creed.
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