Roy Dunar expected Clara Whitmore to become frightened.
That was his first serious mistake.
His second was assuming that isolation meant nobody had been watching.
For three days after Amos left, Clara did almost nothing except collect names.
Mr. Pike, the wagon driver who had delivered her.
The two riders who had mocked her during the first week.
Martha Keene.
Ben Talley.
Luke Mercer.
The storekeeper who had visited the cabin.
The woman who brought peaches.
Anyone who could establish when Clara entered the land and when construction began.
She wrote everything down.
Dates.
Weather.
Work completed.
Supplies purchased.
People present.
Henry had always kept meticulous building records.
Clara now understood why.
Memory was an argument.
Paper was evidence.
On the fourth morning, Roy Dunar returned.
Alone this time.
Clara was feeding Henry beneath the shade beside the cabin.
She covered herself before standing.
“You’re persistent,” she said.
“So are you.”
Dunar dismounted.
“I came to offer you something sensible.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard it.”
“I know what men mean when they describe an offer as sensible.”
His expression tightened.
“Five hundred dollars.”
Clara almost laughed.
“For what?”
“The improvements.”
“The cabin alone is worth more.”
“Perhaps to you.”
“The creek access is worth ten times that to you.”
That stopped him.
Clara had been studying maps.
Dunar’s cattle holdings north of the ridge lacked reliable late-summer water.
Her creek connected to a tributary.
He did not want forty acres.
He wanted control.
Dunar’s eyes sharpened.
“You’ve been doing your homework.”
“I had thirty days.”
“Take the money.”
“No.”
“One thousand.”
“No.”
“You have a child now.”
Clara stepped closer.
“That is precisely why the answer is no.”
His voice dropped.
“You could lose everything.”
“So could you.”
For the first time, Dunar looked uncertain.
Clara continued.
“If my claim is upheld, I intend to ask why you filed while knowing the land was actively occupied.”
“You can’t prove I knew.”
“You visited this road.”
“So?”
“There were walls visible from it before your filing date.”
His jaw tightened.
Clara saw she had struck something important.
Dunar mounted.
“You’re not a lawyer.”
“No.”
“That courtroom won’t care how hard you worked.”
“Good.”
He frowned.
“I’m not asking it to care. I’m asking it to read.”
Dunar rode away without another word.
That afternoon, a problem appeared.
One witness backed out.
Caleb Morse, one of the men who had laughed at Clara, had agreed reluctantly to testify that he had seen her cutting timber during the first week.
Then his wife arrived at Clara’s cabin.
“Caleb says he can’t come.”
“Why?”
The woman looked embarrassed.
“Dunar bought twelve head from him.”
Clara understood immediately.
“After Caleb agreed to testify?”
“Yes.”
Anger burned through her.
“Thank you for telling me.”
The woman turned to leave.
Then stopped.
“I saw you, too.”
Clara looked up.
“What?”
“I was in the wagon behind Caleb the second time he passed.”
“Would you testify?”
Fear appeared.
“My husband wouldn’t like it.”
Clara nodded.
“I won’t ask you to risk your marriage.”
The woman walked several steps.
Then turned back.
“My name is Rebecca Morse.”
Clara waited.
Rebecca lifted her chin.
“You can write it down.”
One witness lost.
One gained.
The case grew.
Meanwhile Amos reached Durango.
Samuel Pritchard had been there.
But he had left six weeks earlier.
Denver route.
Amos visited the clerk's office, freight stations, hotels, and stables.
A blacksmith remembered Pritchard.
“He took the northern stage.”
“When?”
“Month back.”
“To Denver?”
“Supposed to.”
“Supposed to?”
The blacksmith wiped his hands.
“Stage broke an axle near Red Creek. Passengers scattered. Some continued by wagon. Some waited.”
“Pritchard?”
“Don’t know.”
Amos rode north.
Back at the claim, Clara faced a different danger.
Someone damaged her fence.
At first she assumed cattle had pushed through.
Then she saw the cut.
Clean.
Made by a blade.
Two sections deliberately severed.
That night she heard movement outside.
Clara lifted Henry from the cradle and reached for the shotgun Henry had purchased months earlier.
She hated the weapon.
But she knew how to use it.
A shadow moved beyond the window.
Clara blew out the lantern.
Silence.
Then footsteps.
She waited.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
A familiar voice.
Ben Talley.
Clara opened the door but kept the gun lowered at her side.
Ben raised both hands.
“Amos asked me to check in.”
“Someone cut my fence.”
Ben’s face changed.
“Tonight?”
“Yesterday.”
He inspected the damage at dawn.
“This was deliberate.”
“I know.”
“You think Dunar?”
“I think accusations without proof are useless.”
Ben smiled grimly.
“You really should have been a lawyer.”
“I’d rather be a carpenter.”
The hearing was now sixteen days away.
Still no message from Amos.
Clara continued gathering evidence.
She visited the Durango land office herself with Martha watching baby Henry.
A young clerk initially tried to dismiss her.
“Your attorney can request copies.”
“I don’t have an attorney.”
“Then you should obtain one.”
“Can you provide me with the public filing register?”
“That isn’t ordinarily—”
“Is it public?”
The clerk hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Then I would like to see it.”
Three hours later Clara found another critical detail.
Dunar had filed his competing claim seventeen days after Clara began building.
Not weeks after construction was visible.
Seventeen days.
And Dunar had purchased cattle from a rancher who used that road on day nineteen.
Meaning his assertion that he believed the parcel abandoned was increasingly difficult to defend.
Clara copied everything.
When she returned home, Rebecca Morse was waiting.
“I need to tell you something.”
Clara sat.
Rebecca twisted her hands.
“Roy Dunar came to our house.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“What did he want?”
“He told Caleb that if I testify, the cattle deal disappears.”
Clara looked at her.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Rebecca’s eyes filled.
“That’s what Caleb said.”
“Then listen to him.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“All my life men have told me to keep peace by keeping quiet.”
Clara said nothing.
Rebecca looked toward the cabin.
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
Clara glanced around.
“I built a house.”
Rebecca smiled faintly.
“Then write my name down twice.”
Eleven days before the hearing, Amos returned.
Clara saw him riding hard toward the property.
She ran as much as her recovering body allowed.
His expression told her everything before he spoke.
“You didn’t find him.”
“I found where he went.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Amos dismounted.
“Pritchard was on the Red Creek stage. It broke down. He continued north with a freight wagon.”
“To Denver?”
“It never arrived.”
Clara’s stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“Early snowstorm hit the upper pass.”
“Was the wagon lost?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“No wreck was officially reported.”
Clara looked toward Henry.
“And no passengers?”
“Two reached Silverton. One died from exposure.”
“Pritchard?”
“No.”
“Then where is he?”
Amos hesitated.
“There’s a mining camp called Eagle Hollow above the old pass. Sometimes stranded travelers winter there.”
“Then go.”
“Clara—”
“Go.”
“The pass is dangerous.”
“So is losing the claim.”
He stepped closer.
“You think I’m afraid of the pass?”
“I think you’re about to tell me something I don’t want to hear.”
“I don’t want to leave you unprotected.”
Clara looked at him.
“Ben checks twice a day. Martha is nearby. Dunar isn’t going to drag me off the land.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I know exactly what happens if we don’t find Pritchard.”
Amos removed his hat.
Ran a hand through wet hair.
Then said quietly, “There’s another problem.”
“What?”
“The hearing was moved.”
Clara’s blood went cold.
“To when?”
“Six days from now.”
“What?”
“Dunar petitioned for expedited review.”
Anger surged through her.
“He knows.”
“Probably.”
“He knows we’re searching.”
“Yes.”
Clara turned toward the mountains.
Six days.
A missing witness.
A dangerous pass.
A newborn.
A wealthy opponent.
Amos stood behind her.
“I can leave within the hour.”
Clara turned back.
“Bring him home.”
Amos mounted.
Then paused.
“If I don’t return before the hearing—”
“I’ll go without you.”
“I know.”
“Amos.”
He looked down.
“Come back.”
Something moved between them.
Something neither had yet dared name.
“I intend to.”
Then he rode north.
Three days passed.
Four.
On the evening before the hearing, snow began falling in the high mountains.
And Amos Caldwell still had not returned.
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