Chapter 2 - Three Cuts in the Rifle
Caleb reached the rear door before Evelyn could move.
His enormous hand clamped over the turning latch.
The man outside pushed.
Caleb pushed back.
For two seconds neither side spoke.
Then Caleb quietly slid the iron crossbar into place.
The latch stopped moving.
Evelyn stared at the lock.
“There are only two keys.”
Caleb whispered, “Who has them?”
“One is in my pocket.”
“And the other?”
“My husband had it.”
The truth landed between them.
Thomas had been buried eleven months ago.
His key should have been buried with him.
A voice came from outside.
“Mrs. Carter, we don’t want trouble.”
Caleb gave Evelyn a look that clearly meant: They do.
She moved away from the door.
“Why do they have Thomas’s key?”
“Maybe they don’t.”
“I just watched it turn.”
“They could’ve had one made.”
“From what?”
Caleb’s eyes flicked toward the oilskin letter.
“From Thomas.”
Evelyn’s expression hardened.
“Stop talking like he’s alive.”
“I didn’t say he was.”
“You keep saying things that sound like it.”
“I’m saying men can copy keys before other men die.”
She hated how reasonable that was.
Outside, boots moved across the porch.
Caleb silently counted shadows passing the window.
Four men.
Maybe five.
The storm worsened.
It would cover tracks within minutes.
It would cover other things too.
Caleb motioned toward the stove.
“Any other way out?”
“Cellar.”
“Where?”
“Under the pantry.”
“Does it open outside?”
“At the barn.”
“Good.”
“I’m not running from my own house.”
He turned.
“Evelyn.”
It was the first time he had used her name.
Something about the way he said it stopped her.
“They didn’t come to talk.”
“How do you know?”
“Because men who come to talk use the front door.”
Another knock.
“Mrs. Carter!”
A second voice joined the first.
“Silas Boone sent us!”
Evelyn’s jaw tightened.
That confirmed enough.
“What does Boone want?”
Caleb glanced at her.
“The same thing he wanted before your husband died.”
“You said you didn’t know what was buried.”
“I don’t.”
“Then stop pretending you understand this.”
“I understand desperate men.”
Caleb checked the rifle chamber.
“One thing I’ve learned is they don’t get less dangerous when they’re afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
He looked toward Saddleback Ridge.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
The rear door shook.
Hard.
Evelyn flinched.
A voice called again.
“Mrs. Carter, Mr. Boone is prepared to double his offer for the northern pasture.”
Caleb raised an eyebrow.
“Generous.”
“I rejected him at ten thousand.”
“What’s it worth?”
“Maybe six.”
“And now he’ll pay twenty?”
Evelyn understood.
Whatever Boone wanted, it was not grass.
She walked to the pantry and pulled aside sacks of flour.
Beneath a rug was a square iron ring.
She lifted the cellar door.
Cold air rose from below.
Caleb looked impressed.
“Thomas built it.”
“He liked having two ways out.”
“Maybe now we know why.”
Evelyn glared.
Caleb immediately regretted the remark.
“Sorry.”
She grabbed a lantern.
“What about the bear?”
“It ran east.”
“How do you know?”
“Tracks were angled that way before Boone’s men arrived.”
“You saw that through the window?”
“I spend a lot of time looking at tracks.”
“You always answer questions with half an answer?”
“Only when the whole one takes too long.”
The rear door cracked.
A piece of wood broke loose.
Caleb pointed toward the cellar.
“Now.”
Evelyn descended first.
The space beneath the cabin smelled of earth and potatoes.
She had not used the tunnel in months.
Caleb lowered himself through the opening and pulled the hatch closed.
Darkness swallowed them.
For several seconds, the only sound was their breathing.
Then someone entered the cabin above.
Evelyn heard boots.
Furniture shifting.
Drawers opening.
One man cursed.
Another said, “Find the letter.”
Caleb’s hand closed around Evelyn’s wrist.
She looked at him in the dim lantern light.
The letter.
They knew.
She whispered, “How?”
Caleb leaned close enough that she could hear him.
“Someone knew my father had it.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
The men upstairs continued searching.
A chair overturned.
Glass broke.
Evelyn’s anger rose faster than her fear.
That cabin had been hers before it had been Thomas’s.
Her father built the east wall.
Her mother chose the curtains.
She had buried a baby behind the hill before Thomas ever arrived in Silver Creek.
It was not just a house.
Men were tearing through her life.
She started toward the stairs.
Caleb stopped her.
“No.”
“They’re destroying everything.”
“They’ll destroy you too.”
“I won’t hide in a hole.”
“You’re not hiding.”
“What would you call it?”
“Surviving long enough to find out why they came.”
Evelyn stared at him.
His grip loosened.
“Trust me for ten minutes.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Then trust your own anger and save it for someone who deserves it.”
That made her pause.
Above them, a man shouted, “Not here!”
Another voice answered, “Check the barn.”
Caleb looked toward the tunnel.
“Time.”
They moved.
The passage was barely shoulder-wide for Caleb.
He had to crouch.
Evelyn went first, carrying the lantern.
The tunnel ended beneath an old feed chest inside the barn.
She pushed upward.
Snow blew through gaps in the siding.
The horses were restless.
Caleb emerged behind her.
“Which one is yours?”
“The gray mare.”
“Can she carry double?”
“She can carry me.”
“I’m not asking her to carry me.”
“You’re not taking my horse.”
Caleb almost smiled.
“Fair.”
He moved toward a large bay gelding tied near the back.
“That yours?”
“No.”
His hand stopped.
Evelyn stared.
The gelding wore a strange saddle.
Fresh snow covered its back.
Someone had ridden it into the barn recently.
Neither Evelyn nor Caleb had heard them.
She whispered, “That horse wasn’t here this morning.”
Caleb approached slowly.
A leather pouch hung from the saddle.
He opened it.
Inside was a folded county map.
The northern pasture was circled in red.
So was Saddleback Ridge.
Three diagonal marks were drawn beside it.
Evelyn’s skin went cold.
“Those marks again.”
Caleb nodded.
Then he saw something tucked beneath the saddle blanket.
He pulled out a strip of old leather.
Evelyn knew it instantly.
Thomas’s saddle.
She grabbed it.
The leather was cracked.
A brass buckle hung from one end.
On the underside were the same three diagonal cuts.
Evelyn’s voice failed.
Caleb watched her face.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I repaired that stitching myself.”
Her thumb traced a dark line along the leather.
“This is his.”
Caleb looked toward the barn doors.
“Then someone opened his grave.”
Evelyn felt sick.
“No.”
“The saddle was buried with him?”
“Yes.”
“You saw it?”
“I put it there.”
Caleb swore softly.
From outside came a shout.
“Barn!”
They had seconds.
Caleb opened the rear livestock gate.
“Take your mare.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll take this horse.”
“That could belong to them.”
“Then they can come collect it.”
Evelyn mounted.
Caleb swung onto the bay with surprising ease for a man his size.
The barn door opened behind them.
“Stop!”
They rode.
Snow struck Evelyn’s face.
The gray mare plunged through drifts toward the northern ridge.
A rifle fired behind them.
The shot went wide.
Caleb turned in the saddle.
“Keep going!”
Evelyn did.
The pasture disappeared beneath blowing snow.
Visibility dropped to yards.
Caleb drew alongside her.
“Where does the old mining road start?”
“Half a mile.”
“We need cover.”
“You think Boone’s men will follow?”
“They already are.”
Hooves thundered behind them.
Evelyn looked back.
Three dark shapes appeared through the storm.
Maybe four.
Caleb shouted, “Ravine?”
“Left!”
They turned sharply.
The gray mare slid down the frozen path.
The men behind overshot the entrance.
That bought time.
At the bottom of the ravine, trees blocked most of the wind.
Caleb dismounted.
“So what now?”
“We wait.”
“For what?”
“For them to decide whether following us into a blind ravine is smart.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“And if they’re stupid?”
Caleb checked his rifle.
“Then we learn something useful.”
Minutes passed.
No one appeared.
Evelyn finally breathed.
Caleb tied the horses beneath an overhang.
She pulled Thomas’s saddle strip from her coat.
“Why would anyone dig this up?”
Caleb looked at it.
“Maybe they were looking for something.”
“Like what?”
“Your husband’s key.”
She remembered the turning lock.
A chill that had nothing to do with winter ran through her.
“What was Thomas involved in?”
Caleb sat on a rock.
“My father told me one story when he was dying.”
Evelyn turned.
“You waited until now to mention that?”
“I wasn’t sure it mattered.”
“It matters.”
Caleb nodded.
“Twenty years ago, Thomas, my father, Boone, and Vale worked cattle drives together. Not legal ones.”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed.
“Rustlers?”
“Sometimes.”
“My husband was not a thief.”
“He was young.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
Caleb rubbed his jaw.
“They stole from men worse than they were. At least, that’s how my father justified it.”
“And what did they bury?”
“Money.”
Evelyn stared.
“How much?”
“He never said.”
“Where did it come from?”
Caleb hesitated.
“Not cattle.”
“Then where?”
“A payroll shipment.”
She stepped back.
“Robbery.”
“According to my father, Boone planned it. Vale arranged the route. Thomas wanted out after it went wrong.”
“What went wrong?”
“A guard died.”
Evelyn looked away.
The man she had married seemed to move farther from her with every sentence.
Caleb continued.
“My father said Thomas refused his share. They buried the money rather than risk spending it.”
“Under Saddleback Ridge.”
“Maybe.”
“Why would Boone want it now?”
“Because if it’s still there, it could be worth a fortune.”
“Twenty-year-old stolen money?”
“It wasn’t only cash.”
“What else?”
“Company bonds.”
Evelyn’s face tightened.
“Whose company?”
Caleb took out the map.
“Vale Land & Mineral.”
That made no sense.
“How could Vale steal from his own company?”
“It wasn’t his then.”
Caleb pointed at the old map.
“The bonds carried ownership claims.”
“To what?”
“Mineral rights.”
Evelyn looked toward the ridge.
Beneath acres of worthless scrub and rock.
Suddenly twenty thousand dollars for six thousand dollars’ worth of pasture made sense.
“Coal?”
“Maybe.”
“Oil?”
“Maybe.”
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
Caleb stood.
“But Boone does.”
A sound came from above the ravine.
Both froze.
A horse snorted.
Caleb raised his rifle.
No riders appeared.
Instead, a riderless horse stumbled down the slope.
Blood stained its saddle.
Evelyn recognized it.
One of Boone’s men had ridden that horse.
Caleb caught the reins.
“There’s no rider.”
Evelyn looked uphill.
A shadow moved between the pines.
Large.
Dark.
The grizzly.
It was following them.
Caleb whispered, “That animal isn’t chasing us.”
“What do you mean?”
He pointed to the horse’s flank.
A dart protruded from its hide.
Evelyn stared.
Not a bullet.
A metal dart.
Someone had drugged the horse.
Caleb’s face hardened.
“Same thing they did to the bear.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Why?”
Before he could answer, a voice came from the trees.
“Because frightened animals go exactly where you push them.”
A man stepped into view.
Gray coat.
Black hat.
Silver beard.
Evelyn knew his face from bank meetings and county dinners.
Silas Boone.
He smiled down at them.
Then he raised Thomas Carter’s missing revolver.
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“Hello, Evelyn.”
And behind him stood a man who should have been dead...
