Chapter 6 - The Night Red Hollow Chose a Side
Martha ran toward the horses.
Colton caught her arm.
"No."
"My house is burning."
"That's what Weller wants."
"I know."
"He wants you running in without thinking."
"I'm thinking perfectly well."
"Martha—"
She turned on him.
"My father's letters are in there."
Colton's expression changed.
She pulled free.
"My mother's things. Their photographs. Everything I have left."
Then his hand closed around hers.
Not restraining.
Holding.
"I'm coming."
Nathan joined them.
"So am I."
By the time they reached the Bell farm, flames consumed the east side of the house.
Martha stopped in the yard.
She had thought losing that house wouldn't matter.
She had already moved away.
It was boards.
Glass.
Old furniture.
Then she saw the bedroom window where her mother had once sat sewing.
Fire broke through it.
Martha's chest collapsed inward.
"My letters."
Colton dismounted.
"Where?"
"Bedroom chest."
"I'll get them."
"No."
He looked at her.
She almost laughed at the absurdity.
"You nearly died last week."
"So?"
"So I am not nursing you twice."
He gave her the faintest smile.
Nathan grabbed both their shoulders.
"Nobody enters a burning house."
A gunshot cracked from the barn.
They dropped.
Weller appeared behind the fence.
He held a rifle.
"MARTHA!"
His voice carried across the yard.
"I HAVE THE RECORDS."
Martha stood slowly.
Colton reached for her.
She shook her head.
Weller held up the bundle.
"Deed first."
"What deed?"
"Your eighty acres."
"You don't own them."
"You do."
He smiled.
"Sign them to me."
Nathan called, "You're surrounded, Caleb."
Weller laughed.
They weren't.
At least not yet.
Nathan's deputies were still in town.
"Come closer and the records burn."
He had a lantern beside him.
Martha walked forward.
Colton whispered her name.
She kept going.
"What do you want the land for?"
Weller smiled.
"You know."
"The railroad."
"Station belongs there."
"Then buy it honestly."
"I offered your father money."
"He refused."
"He was a fool."
Martha stopped twenty feet away.
"My father died thinking he failed us."
Weller said nothing.
"He died believing losing that land was his fault."
"People believe what they choose."
"No."
Martha's voice strengthened.
"People believe what men like you force them to believe."
Weller raised the rifle.
"Careful."
Behind Martha, horses approached.
One.
Five.
Ten.
Then dozens.
Red Hollow was coming.
Ranchers.
Shopkeepers.
Laborers.
Widows.
Families whose land appeared in Boone's records.
Mrs. Talbot stood in a wagon holding a shotgun.
Martha nearly smiled.
Weller looked around.
His confidence slipped.
Silas Mercer rode at the front under guard.
He called out:
"It's over, Caleb."
Weller aimed at him.
"You started this."
"I did."
Mercer's voice carried across the yard.
"And I'm finishing my part in it."
He held up a ledger.
"My complete account book. Every payment. Every forged transfer. Every judge you bought."
Weller's face changed.
Mercer continued.
"You can burn Boone's copies. Mine are enough."
Nathan stepped forward.
"Put down the rifle."
For a moment Weller looked like he might.
Then his eyes shifted toward Martha.
He fired.
Colton moved before anyone else.
He slammed into Martha.
The bullet missed her by inches.
Nathan and three ranchers fired.
Weller dropped the rifle, clutching his shoulder.
Nathan crossed the yard and arrested him.
It ended almost quietly after that.
The fire did not.
Red Hollow fought it together.
People formed bucket lines from the well.
Colton worked until Pierce physically ordered him to stop.
Martha stood in the yard watching her childhood home burn.
Then a small figure approached.
Mrs. Talbot.
Her face was streaked with soot.
She carried a wooden sewing chest.
Martha stared.
"How?"
"I went through the back before the roof caught."
"You went inside?"
Mrs. Talbot looked embarrassed.
"Apparently I'm foolish."
Martha took the chest.
Her mother's letters were inside.
So were the photographs.
Everything that mattered.
Martha began crying.
She hated crying in public.
Mrs. Talbot hugged her.
At first Martha stood stiffly.
Then she hugged back.
"I'm sorry," the older woman whispered.
"For what?"
"For leaving Colton."
Martha closed her eyes.
Mrs. Talbot continued.
"We were scared. And we let fear make us cruel."
Others heard.
Reverend Cooper lowered his head.
Several neighbors did the same.
Colton stood a few yards away.
His gaze met Martha's.
The town had finally understood.
Not because Martha lectured them.
Because when danger came for everyone, the woman they ignored had been standing in front all along.
Weeks passed.
The trials began.
Caleb Weller was charged with attempted murder, fraud, conspiracy, and land theft.
Rusk agreed to testify.
Charles Vane did too.
Silas Mercer pleaded guilty to fraud and conspiracy in exchange for cooperation.
Dozens of properties were restored.
The Bell eighty acres legally returned to Martha.
Colton's ranch became his free and clear.
Elias Boone testified before the county court.
The railroad company confirmed the new station would be built.
And then an unexpected problem arrived.
A railroad representative offered Martha twelve thousand dollars for twenty acres.
She nearly dropped the letter.
It was more money than she had ever imagined possessing.
Colton read the offer beside her.
"What will you do?"
"Sell."
He looked surprised.
"You don't want the land?"
"I wanted justice."
She folded the letter.
"Land can become another prison if you spend your life worshipping it."
He smiled.
"What will you do with the money?"
"I don't know."
He nodded.
Then looked away.
Martha watched him.
For several weeks something had changed.
He found reasons to come into town whenever she worked at the bakery.
He brought eggs she didn't need.
Fixed a window that wasn't broken.
Once he carried a sack of flour three feet because he claimed it looked heavy.
She finally said:
"Colton."
"Yes?"
"If you're trying to repay me for nursing you, stop."
He went still.
"I'm not."
"Then what are you doing?"
He looked almost nervous.
Colton Hayes, who faced armed men while sick with fever.
Nervous.
"I thought I was courting you."
Martha stared.
"You thought what?"
"Courting."
"I know the word."
"Good."
"You're terrible at it."
"I've been sick."
"For six weeks?"
"Recovery takes time."
She laughed.
Then stopped.
He was serious.
"Why?"
Colton frowned.
"Why what?"
"Why me?"
The question came out sharper than she intended.
His face softened.
"Martha."
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't tell me because I saved you."
"I wasn't going to."
"Then why?"
He stepped closer.
"Because you are the first person I've ever met who walked into my life without wanting anything from me."
Martha's throat tightened.
"Because you made me laugh when I thought I might die."
He continued.
"Because you were brave before anybody applauded you."
Her eyes burned.
"And because when I woke up and saw your face beside that bed, I felt safer than I have in years."
She looked away.
"That isn't love."
"No."
Her heart dropped.
Then he said:
"But I think it's where love starts."
Martha stared at him.
He held out his hand.
"Would you have supper with me?"
She looked at it.
Then at him.
"At your ranch?"
"If you'll come."
"Who's cooking?"
"I am."
"Then no."
He laughed.
"At the hotel?"
"Better."
She placed her hand in his.
"One supper."
"One."
It became five.
Then ten.
People talked.
Martha expected that.
Some comments were kind.
Others were not.
One afternoon she overheard two women whisper:
"He's grateful. That's all."
Martha went home and cried for the first time in years.
Not because she believed them.
Because part of her did.
The next day she avoided Colton.
Then the next.
On the third, he came to her rented room.
She didn't answer.
He knocked again.
"Martha."
"Go home."
"No."
"You can't stand there forever."
"I survived you nursing me. I'm prepared."
She almost smiled.
Almost.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"That's a lie."
She opened the door.
"People think you pity me."
Colton stared.
"What?"
"They think you're grateful."
"I am."
"That's the problem."
"No, it isn't."
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
Martha's voice shook.
"Men like you don't marry women like me."
Colton stared at her for a long moment.
"What kind of man am I?"
"Don't."
"No. Tell me."
She looked at him.
"Handsome. Respected. Successful."
"And what kind of woman are you?"
Her answer came automatically.
"You know."
"I want to hear you say it."
She hated him for making her.
"Heavy."
"That's a body, Martha. I asked what kind of woman you are."
She couldn't answer.
He stepped closer.
"You're stubborn."
She almost laughed.
"Infuriating."
"Better."
"Brave. Loyal. Funny when you forget to defend yourself. Smarter than most of the men who thought they were clever enough to steal this county."
Her eyes filled.
"And beautiful."
She shook her head.
"Don't say that because—"
"I say it because I mean it."
He took her hand.
"I don't need Red Hollow to understand why I want you."
Martha looked at him.
"I need you to understand it."
She finally did.
Or began to.
Then Nathan came running up the street.
"Colton!"
They turned.
His face was pale.
"What?"
Nathan held a telegram.
"Elias Boone was attacked on the way to the state hearing."
Martha's heart stopped.
"Is he alive?"
"Yes."
"Who attacked him?"
Nathan looked at the message again.
"They caught one man."
"Who?"
Nathan slowly raised his eyes.
"It's someone we thought was helping us."
Martha felt Colton's grip tighten.
May you like
Nathan said the name.
"Doctor Pierce."
