The journey back toward Redwater took six days.
For Eleanor, it felt like six months.
Her leg had healed enough to bear weight but not enough to forgive abuse. Every mile on horseback sent a dull ache through the bone. Every dismount reminded her how close she had come to losing the limb entirely.
Elias watched her constantly.
Not openly.
He had perfected the art of pretending to study the horizon while actually checking whether she was pale, limping, bleeding, exhausted, or all four.
On the second morning Eleanor caught him.
“If you stare at my leg any harder, it may become embarrassed.”
“I’m checking the swelling.”
“You’ve checked it twelve times.”
“Eleven.”
“That makes it reasonable.”
“Yes.”
Margaret Bell rode ahead of them and shook her head.
“You two sound married.”
Eleanor nearly dropped her reins.
Elias stared straight ahead.
Margaret laughed for the next half mile.
They avoided the main road and traveled through abandoned logging trails until Redwater appeared below them.
The frontier settlement looked peaceful from a distance.
Chimney smoke rose above wooden rooftops.
Wagons moved along the main street.
Children ran outside the schoolhouse.
Nothing about it suggested that a murderer had quietly woven himself into the town’s businesses, saloons, freight companies, and law office.
Margaret stopped beneath a ridge.
“From here, we separate.”
Elias looked at Eleanor.
“No.”
“You already agreed.”
“I agreed before seeing Redwater.”
“It hasn’t changed.”
“I have.”
Eleanor softened.
That was as close as Elias came to admitting fear.
She dismounted carefully.
“Silas expects you.”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t expect me.”
“Exactly.”
“He may hurt you.”
“He already did.”
Elias looked at the scar near her hairline left from the crash.
His jaw tightened.
Eleanor stepped closer.
“You told me to heal.”
“I didn’t mean so you could walk back into danger.”
“Why did you mean it, then?”
He did not answer.
Margaret moved away, giving them privacy.
Eleanor lowered her voice.
“Elias.”
His pale eyes met hers.
“I’m coming back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“But neither did you when you walked into that ravine.”
Something passed between them.
Elias reached into his coat and handed her Nathan’s pocket watch.
Eleanor stared.
“I can’t take this.”
“Yes.”
“But—”
“If Mercer searches you, he’ll take a weapon.”
He closed her fingers around the watch.
“He won’t take that.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Remember somebody is waiting.”
Eleanor’s throat tightened.
She placed the watch inside her bodice where it could not easily be found.
Then she surprised both of them.
She kissed Elias.
Not passionately.
Not dramatically.
A soft kiss.
A promise more than anything else.
When she stepped back, Elias looked as though the ground had moved beneath him.
“Eleanor…”
“I said I’m coming back.”
She mounted again.
Then rode into Redwater alone.
The town noticed her immediately.
A woman who had been missing for months did not return unnoticed.
The blacksmith stopped hammering.
A merchant stepped outside.
Two women on the boardwalk stared.
Eleanor deliberately looked exhausted.
That part required little acting.
She rode directly toward the sheriff’s office.
Before she reached it, three men stepped into the road.
One was Silas Mercer.
He looked almost exactly as she remembered.
Lean.
Weathered.
Scar through the left eyebrow.
Gray eyes capable of appearing friendly when he wanted something.
For several seconds they simply stared at each other.
Then Silas smiled.
“Well.”
Eleanor’s fingers tightened around the reins.
“A ghost.”
She forced fear into her face.
That was not difficult either.
Silas approached.
“I confess, Miss Whitfield, I underestimated you.”
“You tried to kill me.”
“Seems I failed.”
“You stole from me.”
“That part succeeded.”
Two men laughed.
Eleanor hated them instantly.
Silas studied her injured leg.
“How’d you get out?”
“A trapper.”
“What trapper?”
“I don’t know.”
Silas’s expression sharpened.
Eleanor looked down.
“He found me. Took me to a cabin. I left when he went hunting.”
It was the story they had prepared.
Silas circled her horse.
“You’ve been in Blackpine all winter?”
“Yes.”
“Did your trapper have a name?”
She hesitated deliberately.
“Elias.”
The smile disappeared.
“Elias what?”
“I don’t know.”
Silas seized her boot.
Eleanor flinched.
“Think.”
“Hart.”
For half a second Silas’s face revealed everything.
Hatred.
Surprise.
Fear.
Then control returned.
“Interesting.”
He stepped back.
“Come with me.”
Eleanor knew refusing would look suspicious.
“Where?”
“To get warm.”
“I want the sheriff.”
Silas laughed.
“So do I.”
The men beside him laughed too.
Eleanor understood.
Mercer controlled the sheriff’s office.
He led her to the Redwater Hotel.
Inside, a private dining room had been prepared.
Food covered the table.
Silas gestured toward a chair.
“Eat.”
Eleanor sat.
He poured coffee.
“How generous.”
“I’m not a monster.”
“You cut my brake.”
“You had money.”
“So you murdered me for it?”
“I attempted to.”
His casual tone chilled her.
Silas leaned back.
“Here’s the trouble, Miss Whitfield. Somebody tells me you like to write.”
Eleanor remained expressionless.
“Botanical notes.”
“And other observations.”
Her heart beat faster.
Silas smiled.
“Where’s your journal?”
“Lost in the wreck.”
“No.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I searched.”
Eleanor lifted the coffee.
Her hand shook slightly.
Silas noticed.
“Where is it?”
“I told you.”
He reached across the table and grabbed her wrist.
Pain shot through her arm.
“Do not lie to me.”
Eleanor forced herself not to look away.
“I watched you leave me beneath a wagon while wolves came down the mountain.”
Her voice became quiet.
“If you think grabbing my wrist frightens me now, you learned nothing about me.”
Silas stared.
Then released her.
“You changed.”
“Yes.”
“Elias Hart do that?”
Eleanor said nothing.
Silas sat back.
“He’s dangerous.”
“So are you.”
“No.”
Silas smiled.
“I’m practical.”
For the next hour he questioned her.
Eleanor gave him fragments.
Enough truth to sound convincing.
Not enough to reveal the plan.
Eventually Silas left two men outside her hotel room.
She waited until dark.
Then opened the pocket watch.
Elias had modified it.
Inside the rear casing was a tiny strip of paper.
Three words:
BELL. CHURCH. MIDNIGHT.
Eleanor smiled.
Margaret’s husband had hidden his evidence beneath the abandoned church.
At eleven forty, Eleanor began her escape.
The hotel room had a rear window above a stable roof.
Her leg protested as she climbed out.
She moved across the shingles and lowered herself into hay.
A guard passed outside.
She waited.
Then slipped through an alley.
The old church stood at the northern end of town.
Its congregation had moved to a newer building years earlier.
At midnight Eleanor entered through a side door.
Margaret was waiting.
“So?”
“He believes most of it.”
“Most?”
“He suspects Elias helped me.”
“That was expected.”
Eleanor looked around.
“Where’s the evidence?”
Margaret approached the pulpit.
She removed two boards beneath it.
A metal box lay inside.
They opened it.
Ledgers.
Letters.
Names.
Payments.
Stagecoach routes.
Descriptions of stolen goods.
And something worse.
A list of officials receiving money from Silas.
Eleanor recognized the acting sheriff.
A judge.
A railroad foreman.
Even a deputy territorial marshal.
“My husband copied everything,” Margaret whispered.
“This could hang Mercer.”
“If we survive long enough to deliver it.”
A noise sounded behind them.
Both women turned.
A lantern appeared in the doorway.
Silas Mercer leaned against the frame.
Four armed men stood behind him.
“I was hoping you’d lead me here.”
Margaret reached for her pistol.
A shot rang out.
The weapon flew from her hand.
Silas smiled.
“Mrs. Bell.”
His eyes moved to Eleanor.
“And our ghost.”
Eleanor felt Nathan’s watch against her chest.
Silas entered.
“You really should’ve stayed in Boston.”
His men surrounded them.
Silas opened the evidence box.
He leafed through the papers.
Then tossed them into a pile.
“Burn the church.”
Eleanor stared.
“With us inside?”
Silas smiled.
“That seems familiar, doesn’t it?”
The men poured lamp oil across the floor.
Margaret whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Eleanor looked toward the stained-glass window.
“No.”
She listened.
Nothing.
Silas struck a match.
“Goodbye, Miss Whitfield.”
Then a rifle shot shattered the lantern from his hand.
Darkness swallowed the church.
A second shot came from the balcony.
Someone screamed.
Eleanor knew before she heard his voice.
“Down!”
Elias.
She dragged Margaret behind the pulpit.
Gunfire erupted.
Elias moved through darkness like he belonged to it.
Silas’s men fired wildly.
One crashed through a pew.
Another ran toward the door and collided with someone entering.
Thomas Avery.
Eleanor stared.
The trapper who had seemed near death days earlier stood with a bandaged shoulder and shotgun.
“You’re difficult to kill,” Margaret shouted.
“So I’ve been told!”
The fight lasted less than two minutes.
Silas escaped through a rear window.
Two of his men followed.
The others surrendered or lay wounded.
Elias immediately crossed toward Eleanor.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Not mine.”
He looked at Margaret.
“Evidence?”
“Safe.”
Then his attention returned to Eleanor.
“You climbed out a hotel window.”
“How do you know?”
“I watched.”
“You were there?”
“Across the street.”
“You could have helped.”
“You were doing fine.”
Eleanor stared.
Then struck his chest.
“You let me climb across a roof with a broken leg?”
“Healed leg.”
She hit him again.
Elias caught her wrist.
And then, in front of Margaret, Avery, and three very confused criminals, he kissed her.
This time there was nothing hesitant about it.
When they separated, Eleanor forgot how to speak.
Avery cleared his throat.
“Train.”
Everyone remembered.
The gold shipment.
Eleanor recovered first.
“How long?”
Margaret checked the date.
“Sixteen days.”
Elias looked toward the broken church window.
“Mercer will move the plan forward.”
“Why?”
“Because now he knows we have evidence.”
Margaret nodded.
“He’ll strike before we can reach the territorial marshal.”
Eleanor looked at the papers.
“Then we don’t chase him.”
Elias looked at her.
“What?”
“We know what he wants.”
“The train.”
“Yes.”
A slow understanding appeared in Elias’s eyes.
Eleanor continued.
“We stop the robbery.”
“And Mercer comes to us,” Elias said.
Margaret smiled grimly.
“Now you’re thinking like a sheriff’s widow.”
Eleanor picked up her father’s strongbox key, which Silas had unknowingly carried on a chain before losing it during the church fight.
She closed her fingers around it.
Silas had taken her money.
Nearly taken her life.
Burned Elias’s home.
Murdered Nathan Hart.
Killed Sheriff Bell.
And now he intended to murder a train full of strangers.
Eleanor looked at Elias.
“No more running.”
He nodded.
“No more running.”
Outside, church bells began ringing as frightened townspeople poured into the street.
Silas Mercer was fleeing toward Raven Pass.
This time Eleanor intended to follow.
---