Chapter 4 - The Night Someone Came for Winifred
Judson couldn't move.
The man was older than the brother he remembered.
A scar crossed his left cheek.
His hair had gone gray at the temples.
But it was Matthew.
Alive.
"You're dead," Judson whispered.
Matthew gave a tired smile.
"So people keep telling me."
Winifred kept her hand near the pistol in her skirt pocket.
Matthew noticed.
"You must be Winnie."
"Only my father called me that."
"I knew your father."
Judson stepped between them.
"You don't get to walk into my house after eight years and start explaining things."
Matthew's face hardened.
"I didn't have eight years of choices."
"Then start with one. Put the gun down."
Matthew did.
He explained.
He survived the fall.
A pine tree broke his descent.
Amos Black's men found him before Judson did.
Black realized a dead Matthew was more useful than a living one.
He was taken east under guard.
For years, Black forced him to help manage forged land transactions.
"Why didn't you escape?"
"I tried."
Matthew pulled back his sleeve.
Old scars circled his wrist.
Judson's anger faltered.
"Edmund Hayes helped me."
Winifred looked up.
"My father?"
"He discovered who I was. He started collecting evidence. He planned to expose Black."
"Then he died."
Matthew nodded.
"I don't believe it was natural."
Winifred swallowed.
"Did Black kill him?"
"I can't prove it."
"Why arrange my marriage?"
Matthew looked at Judson.
"I did."
Silence.
Judson stared.
"You?"
"I intercepted Black's communications with the agency. Black wanted a woman he could control placed in this house."
"So you substituted Winifred."
"Yes."
Winifred's anger rose.
"You chose me because of my father."
"I chose you because Edmund trusted you."
"You didn't know me."
"He did."
Matthew reached inside his coat.
Judson's hand went toward his gun.
Matthew slowly produced a letter.
Winifred recognized the handwriting.
Her father's.
My dearest Winnie,
If circumstances ever force you to leave St. Louis, there is one family in the West I believe may still possess the courage to finish what I could not.
The McIntyres.
Winifred's eyes filled.
Her father had known.
Matthew continued.
"The agency advertisement was real. Judson wanted a wife. I made sure your application reached him."
Judson looked furious.
"You manipulated both of us."
"I kept both of you alive."
"By putting her in Black's path?"
"She was already in it."
Matthew looked at Winifred.
"Black believed Edmund gave you the evidence."
"The locker."
Matthew nodded.
"The key opens more than a locker."
He explained that locker 217 contained printing plates proving the deeds had been forged, copies of Black's payment records, and a sworn statement from Edmund.
Enough to destroy Black.
"Then we go to St. Louis," Winifred said.
Matthew shook his head.
"Black controls the rail station agents between here and Denver."
Judson asked, "What do you want?"
"Help."
Matthew had gathered men willing to testify.
But they needed the evidence.
And they needed Amos Black alive long enough to face a federal marshal.
Judson didn't trust him.
Winifred didn't either.
But before they could decide, Silas regained consciousness.
He confirmed something Matthew had said.
Years earlier, Silas received letters supposedly from Matthew.
He assumed they were cruel tricks.
Now he realized Matthew had been trying to communicate.
That night, Winifred found Judson outside the damaged barn.
"You believe him," she said.
"I don't know."
"You want to."
"He's my brother."
"And you're angry with him."
Judson looked toward the mountains.
"I buried him."
Winifred stood beside him.
"I buried my father."
He looked at her.
"Now someone is telling me I might not know how he died."
Judson's voice softened.
"I'm sorry."
"So am I."
For a moment their hands touched.
Neither moved away.
"I owe you another apology," Judson said.
"Only one?"
He smiled.
"Several."
"Begin with the stagecoach."
"I behaved badly."
"Terribly."
"I was expecting—"
"A lumberjack in a dress."
Judson laughed.
Winifred smiled despite herself.
Then he became serious.
"I thought survival looked a certain way."
"And now?"
"Now I think it looks like a woman holding a skillet."
She laughed.
He leaned closer.
The distance between them disappeared.
But before he could kiss her, a rifle shot shattered the barn lantern.
Judson pulled Winifred down.
Men rode from the trees.
"Inside!"
They ran.
Matthew fired from the cabin.
Silas took position at the rear window.
Black's men surrounded the house.
A voice shouted.
"Send out the woman and everyone else walks away!"
Judson's face became murderous.
Winifred grabbed his arm.
"Don't."
"I'm not sending you anywhere."
"I know."
They fought for nearly twenty minutes.
Then silence.
Too much silence.
Matthew looked toward the back.
"They're moving."
Smoke appeared beneath the kitchen door.
Fire.
Again.
Judson kicked open the cellar.
"Tunnel."
They descended.
Matthew went first.
Silas followed.
Judson pushed Winifred toward the opening.
"You next."
"What about you?"
"Go."
She crawled into the tunnel.
Halfway through, the earth shook.
The cabin roof collapsed above them.
Winifred emerged beside the frozen creek.
Matthew and Silas were waiting.
Judson wasn't.
"Where is he?"
Matthew looked toward the burning house.
Winifred ran back.
Matthew caught her.
"Let me go!"
Then Judson appeared from the smoke.
Winifred broke free.
She reached him and threw her arms around him.
He held her.
Neither cared who saw.
Judson whispered against her hair.
"I thought I was going to lose you."
"You barely have me."
His grip tightened.
"That's the problem."
They stared at each other.
This time he kissed her.
Briefly.
Desperately.
It wasn't part of an agency agreement.
It wasn't practical.
It was real.
Then Matthew shouted.
Riders were approaching again.
But these weren't Black's men.
Reverend Cole led a group from Coldwater.
The townspeople had seen the fire.
For the first time, Judson wasn't alone.
Over the next week, the McIntyre cabin was rebuilt enough to shelter them.
People brought lumber, blankets, food.
Winifred cooked for them.
Not because Judson expected it.
Because feeding twenty exhausted neighbors was something she could do.
She organized repairs.
She stitched Silas's wound.
She balanced accounts.
She discovered which merchant was overcharging Judson.
She repaired his shirts while telling him exactly why he was an idiot for owning only three.
The house changed around her.
So did Judson.
One evening, he entered carrying a package.
Winifred opened it.
Inside was a new cast-iron skillet.
She stared at him.
"Is this your idea of romance?"
"I considered flowers."
"In December?"
"That's why you got iron."
She laughed until she cried.
Then she kissed him.
Later that night, Matthew returned from Coldwater with news.
A federal marshal named Samuel Grant would meet them in Denver.
If they could retrieve the evidence from St. Louis, Grant could arrest Black.
They planned to leave within three days.
But the next morning, Winifred disappeared.
Judson found her green shawl near the barn.
A wagon track led toward Blackstone Pass.
Pinned to the barn door was a note.
Judson ripped it free.
Matthew read over his shoulder.
WE HAVE THE WOMAN.
BRING THE ORIGINAL McINTYRE DEED AND THE KEY.
COME TO BLACKSTONE MINE.
Judson reached for his gun.
Then he noticed a second piece of paper beneath the first.
It was in Winifred's handwriting.
Judson,
Do not give them the deed.
I know why they need me.
There was one final sentence.
But it wasn't written in ink.
May you like
It had been scratched into the paper with something sharp.
MATTHEW IS NOT TELLING YOU EVERYTHING.
