The cabin door moved inward by an inch.
Caleb stood beside it, rifle raised.
Eleanor pressed herself against the wall.
Her heart pounded so loudly she wondered whether the men outside could hear it.
Another inch.
Then Caleb kicked.
The door slammed outward.
A man cursed.
Caleb stepped into the opening.
"Drop it."
The nearest rider stumbled backward, his revolver still half inside its holster.
The other three reached for weapons.
Caleb fired into the snow beside their horses.
The animals reared.
Chaos erupted.
One rider fell from the saddle.
Another lost control of his horse and disappeared between the trees.
Caleb grabbed Eleanor's hand.
"Now."
They ran through the rear opening.
Willow and Atlas had been tied behind the cabin beneath heavy branches.
Caleb cut both reins free.
Eleanor mounted.
Gunfire exploded behind them.
A bullet struck a tree.
"Ride!"
They plunged into darkness.
The trail barely existed.
Eleanor trusted Willow.
More accurately, she trusted Caleb's horse and allowed her mare to follow.
Branches struck her shoulders.
Snow sprayed beneath pounding hooves.
Behind them came shouting.
Then another shot.
Caleb led them toward a narrow rocky passage.
He stopped suddenly.
Eleanor nearly collided with him.
"What are you doing?"
"Listen."
Hoofbeats.
Closer.
Caleb dismounted.
"Stay here."
"No."
"Eleanor."
"I'm done being left behind while men decide things for me."
His face tightened.
This was not the time for an argument.
Perhaps he realized she would win anyway.
"Fine."
He pointed toward the hillside.
"Take Willow behind those rocks. If anything happens to me, follow the creek east."
"Nothing is happening to you."
"That's not a plan."
She stared at him.
Then nodded.
Caleb stepped into the center of the pass.
The first rider appeared minutes later.
"Rourke!"
Caleb raised his rifle.
"Stop."
The rider stopped.
Two others emerged behind him.
"You can't reach Silverton."
"We're doing pretty well."
"Crowe owns every deputy between here and there."
"Then he overpaid."
One man spat into the snow.
"Give us the letter."
Caleb shook his head.
The lead rider glanced toward the rocks.
Eleanor knew immediately that he had seen movement.
His weapon rose.
Before Caleb could fire, Eleanor stepped from behind the rocks holding Abram's revolver.
Her hands shook.
But the barrel did not.
"Don't."
The men stared.
The lead rider smiled.
"You won't shoot."
Eleanor remembered Caleb's lesson.
Finger outside the trigger guard until she intended to fire.
Breathe.
Choose.
"I hope you're right."
Something in her voice changed the man's expression.
Caleb almost smiled.
"You heard her."
The riders backed away.
Nobody wanted to die over Silas Crowe's stolen papers.
Not in a frozen mountain pass.
Not that night.
When they disappeared, Eleanor lowered the gun.
Her hands immediately began trembling.
Caleb approached slowly.
"You all right?"
"No."
"Good."
She looked at him.
"You say that too often."
He gently took the revolver.
"You did well."
"I was terrified."
"That's what doing well usually feels like."
They rode until dawn.
By midday, they reached an isolated ranch owned by an elderly widow named Ruth Bellamy.
Ruth knew Caleb.
More importantly, she disliked Silas Crowe.
"You can sleep in my barn," she told them. "House is warmer, but if Crowe's riders come asking, I prefer being able to say truthfully nobody's inside."
Eleanor liked her immediately.
Ruth brought them coffee and biscuits.
Her eyes moved briefly toward Eleanor's stomach.
She said nothing.
Later, while Caleb slept, Ruth sat beside Eleanor.
"He looks at you differently."
Eleanor nearly dropped her coffee.
"What?"
"Caleb."
"No, he doesn't."
Ruth smiled.
"I'm seventy-two. I've survived two husbands, four children, six droughts, and an outbreak of cholera. Don't waste time lying to me."
Eleanor lowered her voice.
"He barely looks at anyone."
"Exactly."
Eleanor glanced toward the barn doors.
"People say terrible things about him."
"People say entertaining things about anyone quiet enough not to correct them."
"You knew his wife?"
Ruth's smile faded.
"Mary was my niece."
Eleanor looked at her.
Ruth stared into her cup.
"Caleb was away when she died. He blamed himself."
"He told me."
"He didn't tell you everything."
Eleanor waited.
Ruth sighed.
"Mary was ill before he left. Army officers ordered him to guide a scouting party. Caleb refused at first. Mary told him to go. Said she was improving."
"She wasn't?"
"She believed she was."
Ruth's eyes filled.
"The baby became sick the same night. By the time Caleb returned..."
She stopped.
Eleanor understood.
"Then the war."
"Yes."
"His nightmares."
Ruth nodded.
"The first housekeeper thought someone was being murdered. Second believed Caleb was possessed. Third tried waking him and he caught her arm. He released her immediately, but she was frightened."
"And then everyone invented the rest."
"That's what towns do."
Eleanor looked at Caleb sleeping beneath a blanket at the far end of the barn.
"He locks himself in his room."
"To protect everyone else."
Eleanor swallowed.
The feared rancher.
The supposed monster.
A man who locked the door from the inside because he feared becoming dangerous while dreaming.
That evening they continued toward Silverton.
Crowe's riders did not catch them again.
Two days later the mountains opened into broad plains.
Silverton appeared below.
Eleanor nearly cried when she saw the courthouse.
They rode directly there.
Judge Nathaniel Ward was not what Eleanor expected.
He was fifty-eight, thin, gray-haired, and impatient.
When Caleb requested an audience, Ward initially refused.
Then Eleanor sent the letter into his office.
Five minutes later, the door opened.
"Miss Hayes?"
"Yes."
"Inside."
Ward read the letter in silence.
Then again.
"Where did you obtain this?"
"Crowe's office."
"Illegally?"
Eleanor hesitated.
"Yes."
The judge leaned back.
"That complicates matters."
Caleb's expression hardened.
"Does it change whether the letter is genuine?"
"No."
"Then what's complicated?"
Ward studied him.
"Law is complicated, Mr. Rourke."
"Convenient."
Eleanor touched Caleb's arm.
Ward noticed.
"Judge," she said, "families lost farms. People disappeared. Crowe and Judge Shaw falsified transfers."
"I understand the accusation."
"Not accusation."
She pointed at the letter.
"Evidence."
Ward sighed.
"It's evidence requiring verification."
Eleanor felt hope slipping.
Then she remembered the riders.
"The ledger."
Ward looked up.
"What ledger?"
"Crowe's men said Judge Shaw kept a ledger documenting transactions. Crowe moved it from the courthouse to an abandoned mining office outside Ashford Crossing."
Caleb looked at her sharply.
They had discussed the ledger, but hearing it inside the judge's chamber made its importance clearer.
Ward stood.
"If such a ledger exists, I can issue warrants beyond Shaw's jurisdiction."
"Then issue them."
"I need more than overheard conversation."
Caleb's hand curled.
Eleanor stepped closer.
"What do you need?"
"The ledger."
Silence.
Caleb laughed once.
Without humor.
"So we crossed the mountains to be told to cross them back."
Ward looked at him.
"I'm telling you the difference between suspicion and a case that survives court."
Eleanor understood.
She hated it.
But she understood.
"Will you protect us if we bring it?"
"Yes."
"Can you promise?"
Ward met her gaze.
"If the ledger contains what you say it contains, Crowe will no longer be dealing with Ashford Crossing."
"What about Judge Shaw?"
"He'll be dealing with me."
Caleb looked toward Eleanor.
"We don't have to."
She knew what he meant.
She could stop.
Stay in Silverton.
Protect herself and the baby.
Nobody would blame her.
Except perhaps every family whose land had been stolen.
And herself.
"We go back," she said.
That night, they stayed at a boarding house.
Separate rooms.
Eleanor stood outside Caleb's door.
"Can I ask something?"
"Yes."
"Why did you come?"
He leaned against the frame.
"I told you."
"No. You said Crowe wanted your land."
"He does."
"That's not why."
Caleb remained silent.
Eleanor waited.
Finally he spoke.
"When I found you in the snow, I thought you were dead."
His eyes dropped.
"I've found enough dead people."
Eleanor's breath caught.
"I didn't want another."
"That's still not why you're taking me back."
Caleb looked at her.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then he said, "Maybe I want to see what happens when somebody like Crowe is finally told no."
Eleanor smiled faintly.
"That's almost an answer."
"Best you're getting."
She turned toward her room.
"Eleanor."
She looked back.
Caleb hesitated.
"Thomas was lucky."
Her smile vanished.
"What?"
"To have you."
No man had spoken Thomas's name to her without discomfort since his death.
Eleanor felt tears rise.
"Good night, Caleb."
"Good night."
Inside her room, she sat beside the window for a long time.
Something had changed.
She loved Thomas.
A part of her always would.
But grief was not loyalty measured by loneliness.
And affection for another person was not betrayal.
The realization frightened her.
The next morning they began the return journey.
They took a faster southern route.
Two days later, near Ashford Crossing, smoke appeared over the hills.
Caleb stopped his horse.
Eleanor followed his gaze.
The smoke came from the direction of his ranch.
"No," Caleb whispered.
They rode hard.
When they crested the final hill, Eleanor's stomach dropped.
The barn was burning.
Flames climbed through the roof.
Neighbors formed a bucket line.
Caleb jumped from Atlas before the horse fully stopped.
"Animals?"
Abram Cole ran toward him.
"Got most out."
"Most?"
"Caleb—"
A horse screamed inside.
Caleb ran toward the barn.
Eleanor grabbed his coat.
"You can't!"
"Atlas's mare is in there."
"The roof is collapsing!"
He pulled free.
Eleanor caught his face between her hands.
The action stopped him.
"You don't get to save everyone by dying."
Caleb stared at her.
The barn groaned.
Then the roof collapsed in a shower of sparks.
Caleb flinched.
Eleanor saw agony cross his face.
Abram removed his hat.
"I'm sorry."
Caleb stood motionless.
Then Sheriff Bell approached.
"This was Crowe."
"You know?"
Bell nodded.
"One of his men was seen leaving."
Eleanor looked toward the house.
The cabin remained standing.
Barely.
A message had been nailed to the door.
Caleb tore it down.
Three words.
BRING HER BACK.
Eleanor stared at the paper.
Her fear disappeared.
Something colder replaced it.
"Now," she said, "we find that ledger."