Chapter 4 - Beneath the Floorboards
Nathan pulled the rug aside.
A square trapdoor had been hidden beneath it.
Martha had spent two days inside the cabin and never noticed.
The knocking came again.
"Help."
Nathan opened the hatch.
Doctor Pierce lay at the bottom of a narrow root cellar, wrists tied behind him and blood running from his temple.
Martha's heart sank.
"Where is Colton?"
Pierce looked up.
"Rusk took him."
They pulled the doctor out.
He could barely stand.
Nathan cut his ropes.
"Tell me everything."
Pierce pressed cloth against his head.
"Rusk came before sunrise."
"How?"
"Back window. I heard glass."
Martha looked.
One pane had been removed neatly rather than broken.
"He had another man with him. I tried to stop them."
Pierce looked ashamed.
"They hit me."
"Colton?"
"Awake. Fever lower. He fought."
Martha imagined Colton trying to stand, weak from days of illness, still refusing to surrender.
"Where did they take him?"
"I heard Rusk say something about Miller's Canyon."
Nathan swore.
Miller's Canyon lay twelve miles north.
An abandoned mining settlement sat inside it.
Perfect place to hide someone.
Martha gathered blankets and food.
Nathan stopped her.
"You aren't coming."
She stared.
"We don't have time for this conversation again."
"Martha—"
"He needs someone who knows how sick he is."
"He needs rescuing."
"And after that he needs not to die."
Nathan sighed.
"Fine."
Pierce stood.
"I'm coming too."
"You've been hit in the head."
"And I'm still the only doctor who has examined him."
Nathan muttered something impolite.
Then they rode.
Before leaving, Martha hid Boone's documents inside the false bottom of her flour bin.
She carried only the empty metal box.
If Rusk demanded evidence, he would receive metal and air.
The ride to Miller's Canyon took nearly three hours.
Rain had stopped, but clouds clung low over the hills.
They left their horses in cedar trees a quarter mile from the abandoned mine.
Nathan approached first.
Martha and Pierce followed behind.
Two horses stood outside an old assay office.
Rusk was there.
So was Colton.
Martha saw him through a cracked window.
He sat tied to a chair.
His shirt was soaked with sweat again.
Rusk paced in front of him.
Another man stood nearby.
Martha recognized him from the bank.
Caleb Weller.
So Mercer had told the truth.
Nathan listened through the wall.
Weller spoke.
"Where are Boone's copies?"
Colton laughed weakly.
"If I knew, you think I'd tell you?"
Rusk struck him.
Martha's fingers tightened around the empty metal box.
Nathan stopped her from moving.
Weller crouched in front of Colton.
"You are in no condition to be heroic."
"I'm not heroic."
"No?"
"I just don't like you."
Even now.
Martha almost smiled.
Weller didn't.
He grabbed Colton's injured side.
Colton made a strangled sound.
Martha surged forward.
Nathan caught her.
"Wait."
Her eyes burned.
"He's hurting him."
"And we'll get one chance."
Weller released Colton.
"Your father caused this."
"My father paid his debt."
"Your father stole records."
"He copied records."
"Records that belong to the county."
"Records proving you thieves stole half the county."
Rusk struck Colton again.
Pierce whispered, "He's going to kill him."
Nathan checked his revolver.
"Pierce, circle behind. Untie the horses. Martha, stay—"
"No."
Nathan shut his eyes briefly.
"Of course not."
A noise came from the opposite ridge.
Hoofbeats.
Several.
Weller heard them too.
He moved to the window.
"Who is that?"
Martha looked at Nathan.
He shook his head.
Not his men.
Six riders appeared.
Silas Mercer led them.
Weller cursed.
Rusk drew his gun.
Nathan used the distraction.
He kicked open the side door.
"Sheriff! Drop it!"
Everything happened at once.
Rusk fired.
Nathan ducked.
Mercer's riders spread across the yard.
Weller ran toward the back.
Martha rushed inside.
Rusk turned.
He saw her.
His gun lifted.
Colton threw himself sideways in the chair.
His shoulder struck Rusk's knees.
The shot went into the ceiling.
Martha swung the metal evidence box with both hands.
It connected with Rusk's face.
He fell.
Martha stared down at him.
"Nobody notices me," she said. "Useful sometimes."
Colton looked up from the floor.
Despite everything, he laughed.
Then groaned.
Martha dropped beside him.
"You idiot."
"Hello to you too."
She cut his ropes.
Pierce entered and immediately checked the wound.
Nathan dragged Rusk outside.
Mercer's men had captured Weller.
For once, money and power were useful on the right side.
Martha helped Colton sit.
His face was bruised.
His fever was rising again.
But he was alive.
He looked at her.
"You came."
She brushed hair from his forehead.
"Apparently I'm bad at leaving."
His eyes remained on hers.
Something changed between them.
Neither named it.
Not yet.
They returned to Red Hollow before nightfall.
By then news had spread.
The same people who had avoided Colton's ranch now crowded outside the doctor's office.
Concerned faces.
Questions.
Offers of help.
Martha watched from the wagon.
Mrs. Talbot approached carrying a pie.
"We were all so worried."
Martha stared at her.
"Were you?"
The woman flushed.
"We didn't know whether the fever—"
"No. You didn't."
Martha climbed down.
"You just knew you were afraid."
She carried Colton inside without another word.
People moved aside.
For the first time in Martha Bell's life, nobody looked through her.
They looked at her.
Some with shame.
Some admiration.
She wasn't sure which made her more uncomfortable.
Colton spent three days under Pierce's care.
His fever finally broke.
Nathan arrested Rusk and Caleb Weller.
Mercer surrendered his books voluntarily.
County officials came from the capital.
Then came investigators.
Then lawyers.
Red Hollow entered a storm far louder than the rain that had started everything.
Dozens of land transfers were reopened.
Families who had lost property twenty years earlier returned with claims.
Martha's eighty acres were among them.
But the most important witness remained missing.
Elias Boone.
Pierce finally told them the truth.
He had helped Boone escape.
Years earlier Boone had come to him after being beaten by Weller's men.
Pierce hid him inside a supply wagon and sent him north.
"Where?"
Colton asked.
Pierce hesitated.
"Montana Territory."
Nathan leaned forward.
"Where exactly?"
"I don't know anymore."
"Then how do we find him?"
Pierce looked at Martha.
"He sends a letter every Christmas."
"To you?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"To Martha's mother."
Martha stared.
"My mother?"
Pierce nodded.
"Your father saved Boone's life. After your father died, Boone promised your mother he would keep contact in case she ever needed him."
"My mother never told me."
"She was protecting you."
Martha's voice cracked.
"Everybody seems to have spent my life protecting me by not telling me anything."
Pierce lowered his head.
"You're right."
That evening Martha returned to the Bell house alone.
She searched her mother's old sewing chest.
At the bottom beneath folded fabric, she found twelve Christmas cards.
No return addresses.
Each contained only a few lines.
The final card was dated six months before her mother's death.
One phrase repeated in nearly all of them:
THE MOUNTAINS STILL KEEP ME SAFE.
But the final card contained something different.
If the truth is ever needed, send word to Saint Luke's Mission, Helena. Ask for Matthew Gray.
Martha stared.
Elias Boone had been living under another name.
Colton was well enough to travel within a week.
Nathan planned to send a telegram.
Martha stopped him.
"If Weller has allies, the telegraph isn't safe."
Colton nodded.
"We go ourselves."
Nathan sighed.
"Why does everyone in this town insist on making my job difficult?"
Martha looked at Colton.
"He started it."
Colton grinned.
For the first time, he looked like a healthy man again.
Not entirely.
He still moved carefully.
But color had returned to his face.
Martha felt absurdly relieved each time she saw him standing.
They prepared to leave the following morning.
That night, Martha stayed at her old family house.
She was packing her mother's letters when someone knocked.
She opened the door expecting Nathan.
Silas Mercer stood on the porch.
He had been released temporarily under guard because he was cooperating with investigators.
A deputy waited near the gate.
"What do you want?" Martha asked.
"To give you something."
Mercer held out a folded document.
Martha didn't take it.
"What?"
"The deed."
Her heart stopped.
"To your father's eighty acres."
"I don't want charity from you."
"It isn't charity."
"It's restitution."
"Then give it through the court."
Mercer looked down.
"I will."
He handed her another paper.
"This isn't the deed."
She unfolded it.
Her father's name appeared at the top.
Below it was a statement written twenty years earlier.
Martha read.
Her father had accused Mercer and Weller of fraud.
At the bottom, one line caught her attention.
Martha Bell witnessed the transfer.
She looked up.
"I was twenty."
Mercer nodded.
"I remember."
"I never witnessed anything."
"I know."
"Then why is my name there?"
Mercer's face tightened.
"Because Weller forged your signature."
Martha felt sick.
Her own name had been used to steal her father's land.
Mercer continued.
"There's more."
"What?"
"The false document made you legally responsible for part of the transaction."
"Responsible how?"
"If Weller's lawyers decide to protect him, they may claim you participated."
Martha laughed in disbelief.
"I didn't."
"I know."
"Then I'm not afraid."
"You should be."
"Why?"
Mercer looked toward the dark road.
"Weller's attorney left town this afternoon."
"So?"
"He took copies of the forged papers."
Martha stared.
"Where is he going?"
"Helena."
Her blood went cold.
Saint Luke's Mission.
Elias Boone.
Mercer turned to leave.
Then he stopped.
"There's one more thing."
"What?"
"The attorney wasn't alone."
Martha waited.
Mercer looked directly at her.
"Anna Hayes left with him."
Martha froze.
"No."
"I watched her board the stage."
Colton's sister.
The woman who had drugged him once.
The woman everyone believed had been manipulated.
Martha grabbed her coat.
From the darkness behind the house came the sound of a twig snapping.
She turned.
A man stepped from behind the old barn.
May you like
He raised a revolver.
And he said Martha's name.
