Chapter 3 - The Road to Black Canyon
Martha read the note once.
Then folded it.
"We're going."
Silas looked at her as though she had announced plans to walk into a burning building.
"No."
"They want me."
"Exactly."
"Which means they won't stop."
Silas checked the cylinder of his revolver.
"That's my problem."
"Interesting."
"What?"
"Ten minutes ago you selected me as your wife. Now apparently I'm your problem."
A few of the women exchanged glances despite the danger.
Silas stared at Martha.
"You haven't agreed to marry me."
"Then perhaps stop making decisions like my husband."
That ended the argument for approximately three seconds.
Silas turned toward Ben.
"How many men does Cole have?"
"I saw four."
"Could be more."
Ben nodded.
Silas looked toward the brides.
"No one leaves until morning."
Caroline protested.
"What if they come back?"
"They won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because Martha is what they want."
Martha did not like how calmly he said it.
Silas walked toward the gun rack behind the bar.
Most slots were empty.
He found a rifle beneath the counter and handed it to Ben.
"You know how?"
Ben nodded.
"Keep the doors locked."
Martha pulled on her wool coat.
Silas looked at her.
"I said no."
"And I ignored you."
"You'll get killed."
"So might you."
"I'm accustomed to the possibility."
Martha tied her scarf.
"Well, that's the first foolish thing I've learned about you."
Something like amusement flashed in his eyes.
Then disappeared.
Twenty minutes later they rode north.
Martha had not ridden regularly in years, but muscle memory returned quickly.
Silas watched once as she mounted.
"Surprised?"
"No."
"You look surprised."
"I was deciding whether that horse deserved sympathy."
She stared at him.
Then laughed despite herself.
Silas's mouth moved.
Again, almost a smile.
The trail climbed into dense timber.
Martha asked the question that had been sitting between them.
"Why did you come for a mail-order bride?"
Silas looked ahead.
"Needed a wife."
"Insightful."
He sighed.
"My place is isolated."
"Most women wouldn't go?"
"Most women who've met me wouldn't."
"Why?"
"Ask them."
"I asked you."
Silas was quiet for so long she assumed he would refuse.
Then he said, "I was married once."
Martha's teasing disappeared.
"What happened?"
"Fever."
"I'm sorry."
"Long time ago."
"How long?"
"Eleven years."
Martha studied him.
"You never remarried."
"No."
"Then why now?"
"My sister died last spring."
Martha waited.
"She had a boy. Samuel. He's seven."
"You have a child living with you?"
"Nephew."
"And you need a woman to raise him."
Silas looked at her sharply.
"No."
"That's what it sounds like."
"I can raise Samuel."
"Then why—"
"He needs more people than me."
That answer softened something in her.
Silas continued.
"And the ranch needs someone who understands work."
"So you chose the biggest woman in the room."
"I chose the woman Pike said could run a household, mend harness, butcher hogs, shoot, keep accounts, and break a stubborn mule."
Martha blinked.
"He told you all that?"
"I asked."
"He also told you I was fat."
Silas's expression hardened.
"He used another word."
"What word?"
"Doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
Silas looked at her.
"I told him if he used it again, he'd eat the ledger."
Martha stared.
Then she laughed so suddenly her horse tossed its head.
Silas glanced away.
She noticed his ears had reddened slightly.
"You threatened the matchmaker over my honor before meeting me?"
"No."
"No?"
"I threatened him because he annoyed me."
"Naturally."
They rode another mile.
The tension between them changed.
Not gone.
Different.
Martha eventually asked, "Why would my father mention you?"
Silas shook his head.
"I keep asking myself."
"Could he have known your family?"
"My father?"
"Maybe."
Silas's face closed.
"My father wasn't a man worth knowing."
Martha sensed the subject was dangerous.
"What was his name?"
Silas hesitated.
"Jeremiah."
She had never heard it.
By late afternoon they reached a ridge overlooking Black Canyon.
Old mine buildings leaned against the mountain.
A narrow stream cut through the bottom.
Silas dismounted.
"We walk from here."
They tied the horses among the trees.
Martha followed Silas along a rocky ledge.
Below, smoke rose from one building.
"Not abandoned," she whispered.
Silas pointed toward two horses.
"At least two men."
Martha noticed another thing.
A wagon.
Pike's.
"He's here."
Silas nodded.
They descended quietly.
At the edge of the mining camp, voices drifted from the largest structure.
Silas motioned for Martha to remain behind stacked timber.
He approached a window.
Martha ignored him and moved to another.
Inside stood Pike.
Three armed men.
And a tall gray-haired man in an expensive coat.
Ezra Cole.
Martha knew instantly.
She had never seen him, but she knew the kind.
Clean gloves.
Clean boots.
A man who paid others to walk through mud.
Cole spoke calmly.
"Mercer will bring her."
Pike paced.
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"Why?"
Cole smiled.
"Because his father made the same mistake."
Martha's breath caught.
Silas stiffened outside the other window.
Cole continued.
"Jeremiah Mercer should have killed Thomas Bell when he had the chance."
Pike looked confused.
"You said Bell died years later."
"He did. But not before hiding the deed."
Martha's hands curled around the windowsill.
Silas moved toward her.
He had heard enough.
Then Cole said something else.
"And if Silas learns what his father did to his first wife, we'll have a second problem."
Silas froze.
Martha looked at him.
His face had drained of color.
Inside, Pike asked, "What does his dead wife have to do with this?"
Cole smiled.
"Everything."
A floorboard creaked beneath Martha's boot.
Cole's head snapped toward the window.
"Who's there?"
Silas grabbed Martha.
They ran.
Gunfire erupted.
Wood splintered beside them.
Silas pushed Martha behind a stack of ore carts and fired twice.
A man shouted.
"Can you run?" Silas asked.
"I can run."
They sprinted toward the trees.
Two riders came around the building.
Silas fired.
One horse reared.
Martha reached their own horses first.
They mounted.
A bullet struck a tree beside Silas's head.
"Move!"
They raced uphill.
The pursuit continued for almost a mile.
Martha's horse slipped once, recovered, and charged forward.
Silas led them through a narrow ravine too tight for two riders side by side.
When they finally reached higher timber, the gunshots stopped.
Martha pulled her horse beside him.
"Your wife."
Silas's jaw worked.
"Not now."
"Cole said your father did something to her."
"I heard."
"Did she die of fever?"
Silas looked at her.
"I watched her die."
"That wasn't my question."
Pain flashed across his face.
"She became sick after drinking water from our lower spring."
Martha waited.
"Three days later, she was dead."
"And your father?"
"Disappeared the next morning."
Silence fell.
Martha understood.
"You thought he ran because he couldn't face you."
"For eleven years."
"What if he ran because he poisoned her?"
Silas turned away.
Martha regretted saying it immediately.
But Silas said, "Then I'll find out."
They returned to town after dark.
The saloon appeared quiet.
Too quiet.
Silas raised one hand.
Martha stopped.
The front door stood partly open.
No lanterns burned inside.
Silas drew his gun.
"Martha, stay—"
"No."
They entered together.
A chair lay overturned.
The brides were gone.
Ben was gone.
There was blood on the floor.
Then a weak voice came from behind the bar.
Mr. Pike crawled into view.
He had somehow returned ahead of them.
A bullet wound darkened his side.
Silas aimed at him.
"Where are they?"
Pike coughed.
"Cole."
"Where?"
Pike reached into his coat.
He pulled out a key.
"Not Black Canyon."
Martha knelt.
"Where did he take them?"
Pike's lips trembled.
"Your father's real mine."
He pressed the key into her palm.
"Bell's Crossing."
Silas frowned.
"I've never heard of it."
Pike looked at him.
"Your father made sure of that."
Then the saloon's upstairs floor creaked.
Silas raised his gun.
Martha looked toward the staircase.
A shadow appeared at the top.
Someone whispered her name.
"Martha."
Silas went completely still.
May you like
He recognized the voice.
"Father?"
