Three days passed without word from the federal marshal.
Then five.
The weather worsened.
A storm rolled down from the Continental Divide and sealed the mountain beneath nearly four feet of fresh snow.
Jonas knew the trails.
He knew how quickly they vanished.
And he knew something else.
If Elias Mercer planned to come, the storm might delay him.
Or it might hide him.
Rebecca spent each morning checking the road through a brass field glass Jonas kept above the mantle.
Nothing.
The waiting became its own form of violence.
Every snapping branch sounded like a rider.
Every distant shadow looked human.
At night, Jonas kept his rifle beside him.
Rebecca slept poorly.
But life did not stop.
Animals needed feeding.
Wood needed cutting.
Food needed cooking.
They repaired what remained of the barn.
Together.
Jonas built a temporary shelter.
Rebecca hauled boards.
He protested.
She ignored him.
On the sixth morning, Jonas woke with fever.
Rebecca noticed before he admitted it.
His movements were slower.
His face was pale.
When he lifted a bucket, his hand trembled.
“You’re sick.”
“No.”
“You just poured water on your boot.”
“Boot needed washing.”
“Sit down.”
“Rebecca—”
“Sit.”
Something in her tone made him obey.
She touched his forehead.
Hot.
“Fever.”
“Just tired.”
She pulled open his shirt collar.
A red line ran from a cut near his shoulder.
The barn fire.
A splinter had pierced him when the roof collapsed.
The wound had looked minor.
Now it was swollen.
“Infection.”
Jonas frowned.
“Seen worse.”
“And men have died from less.”
He tried to stand.
Rebecca pushed him back.
“You are going to bed.”
“I got traps—”
“You have a wife.”
Jonas stared.
Rebecca pointed toward the bed.
“Move.”
Despite the fever, he almost smiled.
For the next two days, Jonas deteriorated.
His fever rose.
Rebecca cleaned the wound.
Used boiled water.
Poultices.
Her limited medical knowledge came from caring for Thomas during illnesses and helping her mother when she was young.
By the second night, Jonas was delirious.
He spoke Anna’s name.
Rebecca heard it.
She did not know who Anna was.
But she recognized love in the way he said it.
“Anna.”
Rebecca sat beside him.
“I’m here.”
His eyes opened.
For one moment, he looked directly at her.
“Don’t leave.”
“I won’t.”
He gripped her hand.
“Everybody leaves.”
Her heart broke.
“No,” she whispered. “Not everybody.”
He fell asleep.
Rebecca sat beside him until dawn.
The next morning, she went outside alone.
Snow nearly reached her knees.
The woodpile was low.
She needed more.
She picked up the ax.
Months earlier, she could barely split a small piece of pine.
Now she raised the blade.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
By noon, she had enough wood for two days.
Her shoulders screamed.
Her palms blistered beneath old calluses.
She returned inside and found Jonas awake.
He looked toward the stacked wood.
“You did that?”
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“You taught me.”
He stared at her.
Rebecca smiled.
“Apparently you are useful.”
Jonas laughed weakly.
That afternoon, someone rode toward the cabin.
Rebecca saw movement through the window.
One horse.
She grabbed the rifle.
Jonas tried to rise.
“No.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca stepped outside.
The rider raised both hands.
“Mrs. Hargrave?”
She kept the rifle aimed.
“Yes.”
“Deputy Marshal Samuel Pike.”
Rebecca did not lower the weapon.
“Prove it.”
The man slowly removed a badge.
Rebecca approached carefully.
The badge looked legitimate.
Pike handed her a folded telegram.
It contained Jonas’s message and a reply.
Rebecca lowered the rifle.
Pike nodded approvingly.
“Mr. Hargrave teach you to shoot?”
“Yes.”
“Good teacher.”
“Annoying teacher.”
From inside, Jonas shouted weakly, “I heard that.”
Pike smiled.
They brought him inside.
He was a federal deputy working under Marshal Calvin Ross.
Rebecca spread the documents across the table.
Pike studied them for an hour.
His expression grew darker.
“You were right.”
Rebecca looked up.
“About what?”
“This reaches beyond Mercer.”
“How far?”
“Rail contracts. Mining deeds. Bank officers.”
Jonas sat wrapped in blankets near the stove.
“Enough to arrest him?”
“Enough to make powerful men nervous.”
“That ain’t what I asked.”
Pike sighed.
“Yes. Enough.”
Rebecca finally exhaled.
“Then do it.”
“We need original records.”
Her face fell.
“These are copies.”
“Strong copies.”
“But not enough?”
“For Mercer? Maybe. For everyone connected? No.”
Rebecca looked toward Jonas.
“The originals were in Thomas’s office.”
“Where?”
“St. Louis.”
Pike shook his head.
“Likely destroyed.”
“No.”
Rebecca stood.
“Thomas hid things.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I found a key after his death.”
She opened her Bible.
Inside was a small brass key.
“I never knew what it opened.”
Pike studied it.
“Bank box?”
“Maybe.”
Jonas frowned.
“Which bank?”
“First Continental.”
Pike went still.
“That bank is named in the ledgers.”
Rebecca understood.
“Thomas hid the originals inside Elias’s own financial network.”
“Smart man.”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Then came a knock.
Everyone froze.
Pike drew his revolver.
Jonas reached for the rifle despite his fever.
Rebecca stood behind the wall.
Another knock.
A voice called.
“Jonas?”
He relaxed slightly.
“Caleb.”
Jonas opened the door.
Caleb Turner, an old trapper from two valleys west, stumbled inside.
His beard was white with snow.
“You got trouble coming.”
Jonas’s face hardened.
“What?”
“Six men at the lower pass.”
Rebecca went cold.
Caleb looked at her.
“One of them wears a black city coat. Fancy horse. Talks like he owns the world.”
Rebecca whispered, “Elias.”
Pike swore.
“How far?”
“Two hours.”
The storm intensified outside.
Jonas tried to stand.
He nearly collapsed.
Rebecca caught him.
“You cannot fight.”
“Watch me.”
“No.”
Pike checked his gun.
“Cabin’s defensible.”
Caleb shook his head.
“Six men.”
“Four of us.”
Rebecca looked at Jonas.
“Three and a half.”
Jonas glared.
“Not funny.”
“A little.”
Pike spread a rough map.
“They’ll come from south trail.”
Jonas pointed.
“Maybe.”
Pike looked at him.
“Maybe?”
“There’s another route through the ravine.”
Caleb frowned.
“Blocked in winter.”
“Not if you know where the shelf is.”
Rebecca realized.
“Elias’s men have been here before.”
Jonas nodded.
“They might.”
Suddenly the mountain seemed to shrink around them.
Night fell early.
Lanterns were extinguished.
The stove was banked low.
Rebecca loaded ammunition.
Her hands shook.
Jonas noticed.
“You afraid?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She stared.
“Good?”
“Fear keeps you paying attention.”
Rebecca handed him cartridges.
“You have a remarkable gift for comfort.”
Jonas touched her cheek.
“Rebecca.”
She looked at him.
“If this goes bad—”
“No.”
“Listen.”
“No.”
His expression softened.
“Take Bess through the north trail.”
“I will not leave you.”
“Rebecca.”
“I crossed half a country to stop running.”
Jonas stared.
She stepped closer.
“I will not start again because Elias Mercer knocks on our door.”
Jonas’s throat tightened.
“Our door.”
“Yes.”
Their door.
Their cabin.
Their mountain.
Their life.
Gunfire shattered the silence.
The fight had begun.