Chapter 1 - Eighty-Five Dollars
The chained man pulled the newborn against his chest and shouted: “Don’t touch the child!”
Magistrate Harlan Pike stepped onto the courthouse platform holding a stamped labor contract.
A number had been scratched beneath the official seal.
Pike suddenly stopped smiling.
Only a few people in the crowd noticed.
Eliza Mercer noticed everything.
She stood near the front of the courthouse yard with one hand pressed against the curve of her seven-month pregnancy and the other gripping eighty-five dollars so tightly that the folded bills had gone damp in her glove.
Until that moment, she had intended to leave.
She had come to Cinder Gulch because the east fence of her ranch had collapsed, two irrigation channels were clogged, and her late husband’s hired hand had vanished three weeks after the funeral with half a month’s wages and her best saddle.
What she needed was labor.
What she did not need was trouble.
The man on the auction platform looked like trouble made flesh.
He was taller than anyone Eliza had ever seen. His shoulders stretched the seams of a weather-beaten leather coat. A dark beard covered most of his face, and his brown hair fell untidily beneath a wide hat.
Iron cuffs locked around both wrists.
A chain dropped from them, looped through another restraint at his waist, then dragged across the courthouse boards.
Yet none of that was what held Eliza’s attention.
It was the baby.
The newborn could not have been more than a few days old.
The child slept against the giant man’s chest, wrapped in a heavy blanket patterned with dark red, navy blue, mustard, and brown.
The man supported the infant with both shackled hands as carefully as if he were holding something made of glass.
Magistrate Pike gave the crowd an impatient look.
“Eighty dollars,” he repeated. “Five years contracted labor. Strong back. No known disease. No guarantee of temperament.”
A few men laughed.
The chained man did not.
His eyes remained on the baby.
Eliza glanced around.
Cinder Gulch was a mining settlement that liked pretending it was becoming civilized.
It had a courthouse.
A telegraph office.
A church with a bell.
Two saloons.
And apparently a legal system capable of putting a man on a platform and auctioning off five years of his life because he owed money.
At least, that was the official explanation.
“Eighty dollars,” Pike called again.
Nobody bid.
That surprised Eliza.
A healthy laborer could earn thirty dollars a month in the mountains.
Even five months of work would exceed the auction price.
Yet ranchers who normally fought over strong hands stared at the ground.
A blacksmith she recognized from previous visits folded his arms and stepped backward.
A miner muttered something to his companion.
The companion shook his head.
The man beside Eliza whispered, “Not worth bringing that curse home.”
Eliza turned.
“What curse?”
He immediately looked away.
Pike struck the side of the lectern with his gavel.
“Last call.”
The chained man lifted his head.
For the first time, his eyes met Eliza’s.
They were not the eyes she expected.
Not violent.
Not vacant.
Not pleading.
They were exhausted.
And frightened.
But the fear was not for himself.
Eliza knew that kind of fear.
She had worn it for months after discovering she was pregnant.
Her husband, Thomas, had died beneath a fallen timber at the Mercer ranch less than six weeks later.
Since then, every decision had become a calculation involving the small life beneath her heart.
Money.
Food.
Winter hay.
Doctor’s fees.
The mortgage.
The question was always the same.
What would keep the baby safe?
The mountain man looked at the newborn exactly the way Eliza touched her own belly at night.
As if nothing else in the world mattered.
“Eliza.”
She heard her name behind her.
Dr. Samuel Reed, the town physician, stood several feet away.
His expression warned her not to do whatever he suspected she was considering.
That alone made her more suspicious.
Pike lifted the gavel.
“Sold back to county custody for—”
“Eighty-five.”
The word left Eliza’s mouth before caution could catch it.
Every head turned.
She stepped forward.
“I said eighty-five dollars.”
Silence fell so completely she heard a horse snort near the hitching rail.
Pike stared at her.
“You understand what you are bidding on, Mrs. Mercer?”
“A labor contract.”
“For the prisoner.”
“Elijah Vale,” the chained man said.
Pike’s jaw tightened.
Eliza looked at him.
“What?”
“My name is Elijah Vale.”
Pike struck the gavel.
“The laborer will speak when asked.”
Eliza looked back at the magistrate.
“I’m bidding eighty-five dollars for Mr. Vale’s contract.”
Several people began murmuring.
Pike leaned closer.
“You’re expecting a child.”
Eliza’s fingers curled over the bills.
“I’m aware.”
“You live nearly nine miles outside town.”
“I’m also aware of that.”
“You’re alone.”
“Still aware.”
A few people suppressed smiles.
Pike did not.
His gaze shifted to Elijah.
Then to the baby.
“You may purchase the man’s labor contract,” Pike said. “The infant remains under county guardianship.”
Eliza frowned.
“The infant goes with him.”
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
A movement passed through the crowd.
Elijah’s chains rattled.
He pulled the baby tighter against himself.
“Don’t.”
His voice was low now.
More dangerous because of how controlled it sounded.
Two deputies moved toward him.
Eliza immediately stepped between the platform and them.
“Stop.”
Deputy Carver stared at her.
“Mrs. Mercer—”
“The child is asleep.”
That ridiculous fact seemed to confuse everyone.
Eliza looked at Pike.
“Is the baby his?”
Pike hesitated.
“No legal determination has been made.”
“Then whose child is it?”
“That is county business.”
“You’re auctioning a man while he’s holding the child. It became bidder business.”
Someone laughed nervously.
Pike’s eyes hardened.
“Widow Mercer, take my advice. Buy the labor contract if you insist. Leave the infant.”
Elijah looked down at her.
“You don’t know what you’re buying.”
Eliza met his gaze.
“I’m not buying you.”
Something shifted in his expression.
“I’m purchasing a debt contract,” she continued. “There’s a difference.”
“Not to the chain.”
“No,” Eliza said quietly. “Probably not.”
The baby stirred.
A tiny hand emerged from the blanket.
Elijah immediately lowered his head.
“It’s all right,” he murmured.
The tenderness in his voice made the courthouse yard even quieter.
Eliza looked at Pike.
“Why are you so determined to keep the child?”
Pike’s face remained still.
But the older man beside him—Silas Boone, owner of the Cinder Gulch assay office—looked suddenly frightened.
That was when Eliza knew.
This was not about county guardianship.
It was not even about Elijah.
It was about the baby.
Eliza climbed the first courthouse step.
“Eighty-five dollars for the contract,” she said. “And the baby leaves with him.”
“No.”
“Then I withdraw my bid.”
Pike blinked.
Eliza turned.
The crowd parted.
She took three steps.
“Wait.”
Pike’s voice stopped her.
She slowly faced him.
The magistrate whispered something to Boone.
Boone shook his head sharply.
Pike whispered again.
Finally Boone looked toward the baby and muttered, “Get them out before sunset.”
Pike raised his voice.
“Fine.”
Eliza returned.
Pike prepared the paperwork.
Elijah watched the proceedings without moving.
Eliza counted out the money.
Eighty-five dollars.
Most of what remained from selling her husband’s spare wagon.
She placed it on the table.
Pike shoved the contract toward her.
“Sign.”
Eliza read it.
Pike sighed.
“You plan to read the whole thing?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone knows what a county labor bond says.”
“I don’t.”
She scanned the paragraphs.
Five years.
Room and board provided.
Reasonable medical treatment.
No transfer outside Colorado territory without court approval.
No physical punishment resulting in permanent injury.
That particular line made her stomach turn.
Then she found the offense.
“Debt incurred through destruction of commercial property?”
Eliza looked at Elijah.
“What did you destroy?”
Pike answered for him.
“A freight bridge belonging to the Black Pine Mining Company.”
Elijah said nothing.
“Value?” Eliza asked.
“Two thousand dollars.”
She looked at Pike.
“And his debt is being satisfied by an eighty-five-dollar contract?”
“County procedure.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It doesn’t need to make sense to you.”
Eliza almost walked away again.
Then the baby made a soft sound.
Elijah adjusted the blanket.
For a second, the fabric shifted.
Eliza saw something tucked beneath it.
A silver object.
Small.
Oval.
Elijah noticed her looking and quickly covered it.
Pike noticed too.
His face drained of color.
“There,” he said abruptly. “Signed. Deputy Carver, remove the wrist irons.”
Elijah stared at him.
Carver hesitated.
“Sir?”
“The woman paid.”
Carver unlocked the cuffs.
The iron dropped onto the boards with a heavy clang.
Elijah rubbed his wrists.
The waist chain remained.
Pike handed Eliza the contract.
“Take him.”
Eliza folded it.
“And the other chain?”
“Remains until his first monthly inspection.”
“You just said I bought the contract.”
“You bought labor rights. He remains under sentence.”
Elijah touched her arm lightly.
“Leave it.”
She looked up.
He shook his head.
Not here.
Eliza understood.
“Fine.”
Pike stepped close enough that only she could hear him.
“Be back in town tomorrow morning.”
“Why?”
“To register the infant.”
Elijah stiffened.
Pike continued.
“And Mrs. Mercer?”
“Yes?”
“Do not attempt to conceal the child.”
Eliza stared at him.
“What would happen if I did?”
Pike’s smile returned.
But his eyes did not smile.
“You would discover how seriously Cinder Gulch takes its law.”
Eliza turned away.
Elijah followed her down the courthouse steps.
The townspeople moved aside.
Not one person congratulated her.
Not one person met Elijah’s eyes.
Dr. Reed approached.
“Eliza.”
She stopped.
The doctor glanced at Elijah.
Then the baby.
“You should not have done this.”
“Everybody keeps saying that.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
Reed opened his mouth.
Pike called from the platform.
“Doctor.”
Reed went pale.
“I’ll come to the ranch tonight,” he whispered.
“Why?”
He looked toward Pike.
“Don’t bring the child back tomorrow.”
Then he walked away.
Eliza stared after him.
Elijah’s voice came quietly beside her.
“You should take your money back.”
“I already spent it.”
“He might give it back.”
“I doubt it.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Elijah shifted the baby.
“You have no idea what follows that child.”
“Then you’d better tell me on the ride home.”
His expression closed.
“I can’t.”
Eliza began walking toward her wagon.
“You can.”
“No.”
“Mr. Vale, I just paid almost everything I had because every person in this town acted terrified of a sleeping infant.”
“I didn’t ask you.”
“No. You warned me.”
“That should have been enough.”
“It wasn’t.”
They reached the wagon.
Elijah stopped.
The horse pawed the dirt.
Eliza climbed onto the seat awkwardly.
Elijah stared at her pregnancy.
“You shouldn’t be driving alone.”
“I wasn’t planning to be alone anymore.”
For the first time, something close to amusement appeared in his eyes.
It vanished quickly.
He climbed into the wagon bed and sat with the baby.
The chain at his waist clinked against the wood.
Eliza took the reins.
They rode out of Cinder Gulch.
Nobody followed.
At least not immediately.
For the first mile, neither spoke.
Then Eliza said, “Boy or girl?”
“Girl.”
“Name?”
Elijah looked down.
“Hope.”
Eliza smiled faintly.
“That yours?”
“No.”
“Whose is she?”
Elijah’s face hardened again.
“I don’t know how much I can tell you.”
“Start with how you got her.”
He remained silent.
The road climbed between tall pines.
Finally he said, “Black Pine Pass.”
Eliza waited.
“I found a wagon overturned below the road six nights ago.”
“Accident?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Eliza tightened her grip on the reins.
“There was a woman,” Elijah continued. “Barely alive.”
“The mother?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died.”
Eliza closed her eyes for half a second.
“And the baby?”
“The mother put her in my arms.”
“What did she say?”
Elijah looked toward the trees.
“She said not to trust Pike.”
Eliza turned sharply.
“What else?”
“She gave me something.”
“The silver object?”
His gaze snapped toward her.
“You saw it.”
“I see most things people try to hide badly.”
Elijah reached inside the blanket.
He removed a silver locket.
There was dried mud along one edge.
He held it but did not open it.
“The woman made me promise this stayed with the child.”
“What’s inside?”
“I haven’t looked.”
Eliza raised an eyebrow.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
She studied his face.
Strangely, she did.
“Why didn’t Pike take it?”
“He searched me.”
“But not the baby.”
“He tried.”
Elijah’s hand tightened around the locket.
“That’s when the courthouse window got broken.”
Eliza looked at him.
“You destroyed a bridge and a courthouse window?”
“I didn’t destroy the bridge.”
“So Pike lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw who did.”
The wagon seemed suddenly too exposed.
Eliza looked behind them.
The road curved through the forest.
No one.
“What does a bridge have to do with the baby?”
Elijah did not answer.
“Mr. Vale.”
“Someone is coming.”
Eliza heard it then.
Hooves.
Fast.
More than one horse.
Elijah stood in the wagon bed.
The baby woke and began to fuss.
“Keep driving.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
The riders appeared around the bend behind them.
Three men.
One was Deputy Carver.
Eliza’s heart dropped.
Carver raised a hand.
“Stop the wagon!”
Elijah looked at Eliza.
“Don’t.”
She snapped the reins.
The horse surged forward.
The wagon bounced violently over ruts.
Carver shouted.
The riders gained quickly.
Elijah handed the baby forward.
“Take her.”
Eliza pulled Hope against her chest with one arm while steering with the other.
“What are you doing?”
Elijah grabbed the side rail.
“Buying us time.”
“No.”
“Eliza.”
It was the first time he used her name.
“Stay in this wagon.”
Carver’s horse drew closer.
“Stop by order of Magistrate Pike!”
Eliza looked ahead.
The narrow road crossed an old timber bridge.
Beyond it lay Mercer property.
Elijah suddenly stared at the bridge.
His face changed.
“What?”
He did not answer.
He jumped from the moving wagon.
“Elijah!”
He landed hard, rolled, and came up on one knee.
His chain dragged behind him.
Carver reined in.
The other riders spread out.
Elijah stood between them and Eliza.
“Go!”
She wanted to stop.
Every instinct told her to stop.
Then Hope cried against her chest.
Eliza drove.
She crossed the bridge.
A gunshot cracked behind her.
She looked back.
Nobody fell.
Carver had fired into the air.
Elijah had both hands raised.
The deputies surrounded him.
Eliza pulled the wagon to a stop on the far side.
“Elijah!”
He looked at her.
Then pointed toward the ranch.
Go.
She hated him for being right.
She drove.
By the time she reached the Mercer house, Hope had stopped crying.
Eliza carried the baby inside.
Her hands were trembling now.
She placed Hope in a basket lined with folded quilts.
Then she looked at the locket.
Elijah had slipped it into the blanket before handing Hope to her.
Eliza sat at the kitchen table.
She opened it.
Inside was a tiny photograph of a young woman.
Behind the photograph was a folded scrap of paper.
Eliza unfolded it.
Four words were written in hurried ink.
THE BABY IS PIKE’S.
Eliza stopped breathing.
Outside, a horse approached.
One rider.
Fast.
She closed the locket.
A knock struck the front door.
“Eliza!”
Dr. Reed.
She hurried to open it.
The doctor entered and locked the door behind him.
“Where’s Vale?”
“Deputies took him.”
Reed cursed.
Eliza held up the note.
“What does this mean?”
The doctor saw the words.
All color left his face.
“Eliza, where did you get that?”
“With the baby.”
Reed stepped backward.
“No.”
“What?”
“That woman should have destroyed it.”
“Who is she?”
The doctor looked at the basket.
Hope slept peacefully.
Then Reed whispered a name.
“Sarah Pike.”
Eliza stared at him.
“The magistrate’s daughter?”
Reed nodded.
“She disappeared last spring.”
“Then Hope is his granddaughter.”
Reed’s face twisted.
“No.”
Eliza waited.
The doctor swallowed.
“When Sarah said the baby was Pike’s, she didn’t mean Harlan Pike was the grandfather.”
A floorboard creaked behind them.
Both turned.
The back door slowly opened.
May you like
Someone stepped inside.
And he was holding Elijah’s chain.
