Chapter 2 - The Papers Beneath the Floor
The second shot tore through the canvas inches above Martha's shoulder.
"Down!" Elias shouted.
Martha dropped beneath the bench as Elias drove the horses toward a dry ravine.
The wagon bounced violently.
Pain tightened around her belly.
She bit back a cry.
Elias heard it anyway.
"Baby?"
"I'm fine."
"That's becoming your favorite lie."
Another rifle cracked.
Wood splintered beside him.
Elias pulled his revolver but didn't fire.
The distance was too great.
He needed cover.
Ahead, the trail divided around a low ridge.
Elias took the narrower branch.
"Where does this go?" Martha asked.
"Somewhere they won't want to follow."
"That isn't an answer."
"It's the one I have."
The wagon plunged into a rocky wash.
Branches scraped the canvas.
The riders disappeared from view.
Elias drove another quarter mile before stopping beneath an overhang.
"Don't move."
He climbed down.
Martha ignored him and climbed out.
He turned.
"I said—"
"I heard you."
"Then why—"
"Because those men are shooting at me, my dead husband hid documents under my feet, and you're the only person who seems to know why."
Elias stared at her.
She held out the leather case.
"Tell me."
He looked toward the ridge.
Then back at her.
"Everett Coyle owns the C Bar spread north of the Platte."
"I've heard of it."
"Most people have."
"He sells cattle."
"He sells whatever makes money."
Martha's face tightened.
"What does that have to do with Daniel?"
"Open the ledger."
She did.
Names filled the pages.
Some she didn't recognize.
One she did.
"Samuel Keene."
"You know him?"
"He traveled with us from Missouri."
"What happened?"
"He disappeared near Scotts Bluff."
Elias said nothing.
Martha looked at the word beside Samuel's name.
CLEARED.
Her hand began trembling.
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know for certain."
"Don't lie to me."
Elias met her eyes.
"It may mean Coyle had him removed from land he wanted."
"Removed?"
"Driven off."
"And if he refused?"
Elias didn't answer.
Martha closed the ledger.
"Daniel knew?"
"Looks that way."
"He never told me."
"Probably trying to keep you safe."
"It worked beautifully."
The bitterness escaped before she could stop it.
She looked away.
Elias crouched beside the case.
"Where did Daniel get this?"
"I don't know."
"Think back."
Martha remembered the final weeks before Daniel became ill.
His sleeplessness.
The nights he had stepped away from camp.
The argument she'd overheard between Daniel and Samuel Keene.
She had asked about it.
Daniel had kissed her forehead and told her not to worry.
Then Samuel vanished.
"There was a night," she said slowly.
"When?"
"After Samuel disappeared. Daniel came back late. His shirt was torn."
"Blood?"
"I thought he'd fallen."
"Did he have anything with him?"
"A saddlebag."
Elias's eyes sharpened.
"It wasn't ours."
"What did he say?"
"That he found it."
"And you believed him?"
"He was my husband."
Elias absorbed the rebuke.
Martha opened another document.
A land map.
Several parcels were marked in red.
One carried Daniel's handwriting.
WHITCOMB CLAIM.
Martha stared.
"Our land."
Elias leaned closer.
The Whitcomb parcel sat beside a river corridor Coyle appeared to be assembling.
"He wanted your claim."
"We hadn't even reached it."
"Maybe Daniel filed ahead."
"He did. Months before we left."
Elias swore softly.
Martha looked at him.
"What?"
"Coyle isn't chasing papers."
"Then what?"
"He's chasing what those papers can prove."
Hoofbeats sounded above them.
Elias immediately extinguished the small lantern he'd lit.
"Inside."
Martha obeyed this time.
He moved into the shadows with his rifle.
A rider appeared on the ridge.
Then another.
The gray-coated man called down.
"Cole!"
Martha looked toward Elias.
The stranger knew his name.
"Come out, Elias!"
Elias remained still.
"You've got something belonging to Mr. Coyle!"
Martha's fingers tightened around the case.
Elias called back.
"Funny. Found it in her wagon."
"Then the widow stole it."
Martha's mouth fell open.
Elias almost smiled.
"She didn't know it existed."
"Doesn't matter what she knows."
The rider moved closer to the edge.
"We want the case."
"And the widow?"
A pause.
"She comes with us."
Elias's expression hardened.
"No."
The man sighed.
"Don't make this personal."
"It became personal when you shot at my wagon."
"You owe Coyle."
Martha looked sharply at Elias.
He didn't react.
The rider continued.
"He remembers what happened to your family."
Silence.
Martha saw Elias's hand tighten around his rifle.
"Walk away, Mercer."
So the man in gray had a name.
Mercer laughed.
"You think saving one widow fixes what you couldn't save before?"
Elias fired.
The bullet struck rock beside Mercer's horse.
The animal reared.
The riders retreated from the edge.
"Next one doesn't miss," Elias called.
Martha watched him.
His face had become frighteningly calm.
Mercer's voice came from above.
"We'll see you again."
Hoofbeats faded.
Elias waited several minutes.
Then returned.
Martha stood with both hands over her belly.
"What did he mean?"
"Nothing."
"He mentioned your family."
"I heard him."
"You said your wife and son died."
"They did."
"Was Coyle involved?"
Elias looked away.
Martha understood the answer.
"How?"
"Later."
"You keep saying later."
"Because staying alive comes first."
He checked the horses.
"We move after dark."
Martha sat beneath the overhang while evening slowly cooled the rocks.
For the first time since Daniel's death, she felt anger stronger than grief.
Daniel had hidden danger beneath the wagon where she slept.
Had he been protecting her?
Or using her to carry evidence because nobody would suspect a pregnant widow?
She hated herself for wondering.
Elias returned with dried meat and water.
"Eat."
She accepted both.
"Mercer said you owe Coyle."
Elias sat opposite her.
"I worked for him once."
Martha waited.
"I tracked cattle thieves."
"Were they thieves?"
"Some."
"And the others?"
His silence answered.
"How long?"
"Two years."
"Why did you stop?"
Elias looked toward the darkening horizon.
"My wife found out what kind of man I was working for."
Martha said nothing.
"Anna wanted us gone. We packed. Coyle didn't like men leaving with knowledge."
"What happened?"
"Our cabin burned."
Martha stopped breathing.
"Elias..."
"I was away."
"Your wife and son?"
"Inside."
His voice did not break.
That somehow made it worse.
"Did Coyle order it?"
"Could never prove it."
"And Mercer?"
"Carried the kerosene."
Martha stared at him.
"You're certain?"
"I saw the tin on his saddle the next morning."
"Why didn't you kill him?"
"I tried."
The answer chilled her.
"What stopped you?"
"Didn't find him."
Elias rose.
"Now eat."
Martha watched him walk away.
Two broken people.
Two dead spouses.
One wagon.
One enemy.
It felt less like chance with every passing hour.
That night they traveled without lanterns.
Elias chose game trails and shallow washes.
Martha slept intermittently beneath blankets.
Near midnight, she woke to the wagon stopping.
"Elias?"
No answer.
She sat up.
He stood twenty feet away, looking at the ground.
Martha climbed down.
"What is it?"
"Tracks."
"Mercer?"
"No."
He crouched.
Small boot prints crossed the dirt.
A child's.
Martha looked around.
"Out here?"
Elias followed them toward a cluster of rocks.
"Stay behind me."
They moved carefully.
Then Martha heard it.
Crying.
A boy.
They found him wedged between boulders.
Eight or nine years old.
His shirt was torn.
Blood covered one sleeve.
Martha rushed forward.
"Wait," Elias warned.
But she was already kneeling.
"Sweetheart?"
The boy recoiled.
"It's all right."
Martha softened her voice.
"We won't hurt you."
The boy looked at Elias.
Fear exploded across his face.
"No!"
He scrambled backward.
"No, no, no!"
Elias stopped.
"You know me?"
The boy shook his head violently.
Martha noticed something around his neck.
A wooden tag.
She lifted it gently.
Burned into the wood was a symbol.
C Bar.
Coyle's mark.
"Where did you come from?" Martha asked.
The boy stared at the leather case beneath her arm.
His face went white.
"You have Mr. Daniel's book."
Martha froze.
"What did you say?"
The boy began crying harder.
"Mr. Daniel told me if anything happened to him, I had to find his wife."
Martha couldn't move.
"My husband?"
The child nodded.
"He said you'd be coming."
Elias crouched.
"What's your name?"
"Ben."
"Ben, where are your people?"
The boy looked toward the darkness.
"They found us."
"Who?"
"Coyle's men."
Martha took his hand.
"Who is us?"
Ben swallowed.
Then he whispered a name Martha had believed belonged to a dead man.
"Samuel Keene."
A branch snapped behind them.
Elias spun with his rifle.
Someone stepped from the darkness.
May you like
And a voice Martha remembered said her name.
"Martha?"
