Chapter 11 - Across Black Pine Ridge
Jed burned Clayton’s note.
Alandre objected.
“That was evidence.”
“We have better.”
“It had his handwriting.”
“We also have a sworn statement naming him.”
She folded her arms.
“You enjoy destroying useful things?”
“Only when angry.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He looked toward the fire.
“We’re not going to Miller’s Crossing.”
“Yes, we are.”
“No.”
“Then apparently we’re having this argument again.”
Jed turned.
“He wants you there.”
“He wants the documents.”
“He wants both.”
“Then we use that.”
“Alandre.”
“If he wanted me dead, he had three months.”
Jed went quiet.
She had considered that.
Too many times.
Clayton’s original decision to leave her alive had never made sense.
“Thomas told him I knew where the copies were,” she continued. “Clayton kept me alive because he believed that lie. Now he knows the copies exist.”
“And once he gets them?”
“He doesn’t.”
Jed paced.
Alandre watched him.
“You have a plan.”
“No.”
“You always look annoyed when you have a plan.”
“I always look annoyed.”
“Also true.”
He stopped.
“There’s an old freight tunnel above Miller’s Crossing.”
Alandre waited.
“Mining company blasted it fifteen years ago. Never completed the line.”
“Can we use it?”
“Maybe.”
“For what?”
“To put Clayton where we want him.”
They spent the night preparing.
Alandre copied Thomas’s records by hand.
Not all of them.
Enough.
Jed wrapped the originals in oilcloth and hid them inside the lining of his saddle.
“If something happens,” he said, “take my horse.”
“Something is not happening.”
“You don’t control everything.”
“Neither do you.”
He almost argued.
Then stopped.
Progress.
At dawn, they crossed Black Pine Ridge.
The wind had softened.
Sunlight spilled between clouds.
For several miles they rode in silence.
Then Alandre asked, “What happens after this?”
Jed looked at her.
“After Clayton?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
“Helpful.”
“I’ve spent fifteen years thinking mostly about tomorrow.”
“And if you had to think farther?”
He looked ahead.
“Federal court first.”
“You may be arrested.”
“Yes.”
“For the old robberies.”
“Yes.”
Alandre’s hands tightened on the reins.
“You could go to prison.”
“Yes.”
She hated his calmness.
“Does that not frighten you?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t act like it.”
Jed glanced at her.
“Fear’s private.”
She thought about that.
Thomas’s fear had been private too.
Perhaps too private.
“Would you run?” she asked.
“No.”
“Even if they offered you ten years?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve spent long enough hiding from what I did.”
Alandre looked at him.
“And if they forgive some of it?”
“I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“I didn’t ask what you expect.”
Jed smiled faintly.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Ask the question behind the question.”
“It saves time.”
He looked toward the mountains.
“If I walk away free?”
“Yes.”
His voice softened.
“I’d rebuild the cabin.”
“That’s all?”
“Maybe add another room.”
“For what?”
His eyes moved toward her.
Alandre felt warmth rise into her face.
“Storage,” he said.
She stared.
“Coward.”
Jed laughed.
A full laugh.
Alandre had heard him chuckle.
Smile.
Snort.
Never laugh.
The sound startled a bird from the trees.
She began laughing too.
For several seconds, the mountain did not feel dangerous.
Then they reached Miller’s Crossing.
Alandre stopped smiling.
The road curved beside a narrow creek.
Three months earlier, Thomas’s wagon had stood there.
Snow had covered most traces.
Not all.
A broken wheel rim remained half-buried beside a tree.
Alandre dismounted.
Jed followed.
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes.”
She walked toward the place.
Her breathing grew shallow.
Memory pushed against her.
Thomas falling.
Clayton shouting.
Pain.
Darkness.
Alandre knelt.
Jed stayed several feet away.
Not crowding her.
She closed her eyes.
“I never buried him properly.”
“You did what you could.”
“I stacked stones because the ground was frozen.”
Jed looked toward a small mound near the pines.
“I know.”
She turned.
“You saw it?”
“When I returned later.”
He had come back.
Alandre had never known.
Jed approached the grave.
He removed his hat.
“I owed him words.”
“What did you say?”
“That I failed.”
Alandre looked at him.
“Thomas would’ve hated that.”
“Probably.”
“He would have said Clayton failed. You were late.”
“Sometimes late is enough.”
She touched Jed’s arm.
“Sometimes trying again matters too.”
Their eyes met.
Neither moved.
Then a voice came from the trees.
“How touching.”
Clayton stepped into the road.
Marshal Pike stood beside him.
Six armed men followed.
Alandre’s hand dropped.
Clayton smiled.
“You did exactly what I expected.”
Jed whispered, “Not exactly.”
Clayton frowned.
Above them, hidden in the abandoned freight tunnel, a lantern suddenly appeared.
Then another.
Then five.
Riders emerged along the ridge.
The elderly bank clerk was among them.
So were two ranchers.
A woman Alandre had never seen.
And behind them rode a gray-haired federal marshal wearing a dark coat.
Clayton’s smile vanished.
Jed looked at Alandre.
“When did you arrange this?”
She smiled.
“Remember the horse I borrowed?”
He stared.
“The owner was a postal rider.”
Alandre had sent one message before leaving Pine Hollow.
To Fort Benton.
May you like
And now the law Clayton could not buy had finally arrived.
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