Chapter 3 - The Name Her Husband Left Behind
Margaret did not scream when she saw the ring.
That frightened Nathan more than if she had.
She walked toward Jesse's horse slowly.
Her face emptied.
"That's yours?" Nathan asked.
She nodded.
"You brought it with you?"
"No."
Nathan looked at her sharply.
"Where was it?"
"In Kansas."
"Then how—"
"I left it buried with Robert."
Every man in the yard heard her.
Eli swore.
Caleb stepped away from the horse.
Nathan picked up the ring carefully.
Plain gold.
Worn thin.
Dirt remained packed inside the band.
Margaret had told the truth about one thing.
It had been underground.
Nathan handed it to her.
She did not take it.
"I don't want it."
"Someone brought it hundreds of miles."
"I understand."
"Someone wants you afraid."
Margaret's eyes lifted to his.
"They're late."
Nathan was beginning to realize Margaret's quietness had never been weakness.
It was scar tissue.
He ordered two men to find Jesse.
This time Margaret did not object.
Nathan rode with them.
They found Jesse less than a mile away, alive but unconscious beside the trail.
A bullet had grazed his scalp.
Whoever attacked him could have killed him.
They deliberately had not.
Another message.
Another invitation.
Nathan carried Jesse back.
Margaret cleaned the wound.
Nathan watched her hands again.
Steady.
Competent.
No wasted motion.
"You've done that too?"
She tied the bandage.
"I've had practice with men who believed whiskey made them bulletproof."
Jesse woke after dark.
He remembered two riders.
Faces covered.
They approached from behind.
One fired.
The other spoke before Jesse passed out.
"What'd he say?" Nathan asked.
Jesse winced.
"He said tell Mrs. Hayes to finish what her husband started."
Everyone looked at Margaret.
She sat beside the bed.
For the first time since arriving, fear entered her face.
Nathan saw it.
"What did Robert start?"
Margaret stood.
"Not here."
They went to the kitchen.
Nathan shut the door.
Margaret took a long breath.
"My husband wasn't only a gambler."
Nathan waited.
"He worked cattle contracts."
"For who?"
"Anyone who paid."
"Legal?"
"Usually."
Nathan's expression changed.
"Usually."
Margaret looked away.
"Robert transported cattle. Bought them. Sold them. Sometimes moved animals for men who didn't want questions asked."
"Rustlers."
"I never saw him steal cattle."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
She clasped her hands.
"Near the end, Robert became frightened."
"Of what?"
"He found records."
Nathan's heart tightened.
"What records?"
"I don't know all of it. He stopped telling me things."
"Why?"
"He said knowing could get me killed."
Nathan laughed once without humor.
"Useful husband."
"He wasn't always bad."
Nathan regretted the cruelty when her face changed.
Margaret continued.
"Three weeks before he died, Robert came home with blood on his shirt. Not his blood. He locked papers inside a chest and told me if anything happened, I was to burn them."
"Did you?"
"No."
Nathan leaned closer.
"Where are they?"
"Gone."
"How?"
"The night Robert died, our barn burned."
Nathan's eyes narrowed.
"He died in the fire?"
"He was found beside it."
"Found?"
"Shot."
Silence filled the kitchen.
Nathan had not expected that.
"Who killed him?"
"No one was charged."
"Did you believe it was connected to the papers?"
"Yes."
"Then why come here?"
Margaret looked toward Nathan's father's ledger on the table.
"Because three days after Robert's funeral, I found your advertisement."
Nathan stared at her.
"That's why you answered?"
"Not at first."
"What does that mean?"
"Your name meant nothing to me."
She opened her Bible.
From between its pages she removed a thin scrap of paper.
Nathan recognized the handwriting immediately.
His father's.
The note contained only one sentence.
If Brooks Ranch ever advertises for help, go there.
Nathan read it again.
"Where did you get this?"
"Robert's coat."
Nathan felt cold.
"My father died nine years ago."
"I know."
"Robert died six months ago."
"I know."
"My father wrote this before Robert died?"
"Apparently."
Nathan looked at the paper.
His father's handwriting.
No question.
Why would William Brooks tell a stranger's wife to come to the ranch years later?
Nathan had spent his life believing he knew his father.
A hard man.
Fair.
Stubborn.
Protective of his land.
Not secretive.
Or so Nathan had thought.
Margaret said, "I didn't come here to investigate you."
Nathan looked up.
"Didn't you?"
"No. I came because I had nowhere safe left."
That silenced him.
"The farm was taken for Robert's debts. Men came twice asking about papers I didn't have. Then I saw your advertisement again."
"You kept it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because of that note."
Nathan stared toward the dark window.
"So our marriage arrangement—"
"Was real."
"Was it?"
Margaret's expression hardened.
"I did not travel five days to deceive a man into feeding me."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Nathan exhaled.
"I'm trying to understand."
"So am I."
They sat with the ledger between them.
For nearly an hour, they compared dates.
Robert's initials appeared eleven years earlier.
Then again nine years earlier.
Then stopped immediately before William Brooks's death.
One notation repeated beside several payments.
C.B.
Nathan knew that name too.
Charles Barlow.
Owner of the largest cattle outfit in the county.
And Nathan's father's closest friend.
Nathan pushed back from the table.
"No."
Margaret watched him.
"Who?"
"Charles Barlow."
"Alive?"
"Very."
"Powerful?"
"More than me."
"Then don't go accusing him."
Nathan stood.
"My father trusted him."
"Robert trusted men too."
Nathan looked at her.
The point landed.
Charles had helped Nathan after his father's death.
Loaned equipment.
Recommended buyers.
Sat beside William's coffin.
He had even encouraged Nathan to place the marriage advertisement after Mrs. Pritchard left.
Nathan suddenly remembered the exact conversation.
You need someone who can keep a winter house, boy. You're trying to be rancher, cook, bookkeeper, and undertaker all at once.
Cold moved through him.
Had Charles known Margaret might answer?
Impossible.
Unless he knew about Robert.
At midnight Jesse worsened.
Margaret sat with him while Nathan and Eli searched William Brooks's old office.
They found nothing.
At two in the morning, Caleb discovered a loose board beneath the desk.
Under it was a tin box.
Nathan opened it.
Empty.
Except for a single photograph.
William Brooks stood beside two younger men.
One was Charles Barlow.
Nathan did not recognize the other.
Margaret did.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"Robert."
Nathan stared.
The photograph had been taken at Brooks Ranch.
Years before Margaret and Nathan had ever met.
Robert Hayes had stood beside Nathan's father.
On the back were four words.
Nathan read them aloud.
"Three men. One promise."
Below that, another sentence had been added later.
Nathan recognized his father's writing.
BARLOW BROKE IT FIRST.
Nathan looked at Margaret.
She whispered, "There's more."
A small corner of paper protruded from behind the photograph.
Nathan pulled it free.
It was a map.
One location had been circled.
The abandoned north line cabin.
Eli said, "Nobody's used that place in ten years."
Nathan folded the map.
"We ride at first light."
Margaret said, "I'm coming."
"No."
"My husband is in that photograph."
"It's dangerous."
"So was marrying a stranger."
Nathan almost argued.
Then stopped.
At dawn, they rode north.
Nathan, Margaret, Eli, and Caleb.
The cabin appeared after two hours.
Door closed.
No horses.
Nathan dismounted.
The dirt showed recent tracks.
He drew his revolver.
Margaret approached behind him.
"Stay back."
She ignored him.
Nathan reached for the handle.
The door moved before he touched it.
It opened slowly from the inside.
A man stood in the darkness.
Margaret stopped breathing.
The man looked directly at her.
May you like
Then he said the name only her dead husband had ever called her.
"Maggie."
