Chapter 3 - The Things Jedodiah Never Said
When the pass finally reopened, Alandre did not leave.
She told herself it was because traveling alone remained dangerous.
She told herself she needed more supplies.
She told herself the nearest settlement was still two days away.
All those explanations were true.
None was the whole truth.
The whole truth was that the cabin had begun to feel like the first safe place she had known since Thomas died.
And Jedodiah Boone had become part of that safety.
He never touched her without permission.
Never asked for payment.
Never entered the small back room after giving it to her.
When she woke from nightmares, he pretended not to notice unless she wanted to talk.
When she did talk, he listened.
And when she cried, he never told her to stop.
Alandre had known kind men before.
She had rarely known a quiet kindness that expected nothing in return.
That made the secrets worse.
One morning they rode down toward a frozen creek to check traps.
Jedodiah pointed toward tracks.
“Mountain lion.”
Alandre leaned closer.
“How can you tell?”
“Shape.”
“They look like marks in snow.”
“That’s what tracks usually are.”
She looked at him.
His mouth twitched.
“Was that a joke?”
“No.”
“It was.”
“Prove it.”
By noon she had laughed three times.
Each time, Jedodiah pretended not to be pleased.
On the ride back, they stopped on a ridge overlooking the valley.
Alandre stared at miles of untouched snow.
“Thomas would’ve loved this.”
Jedodiah became still.
“He liked mountains?”
“He liked anywhere that made him feel like something new might happen.”
Jedodiah looked toward the horizon.
“What did he do?”
“Whatever kept us fed. Freight ledgers. Survey work. Sometimes accounting for mining companies.”
Something flickered in Jedodiah’s face.
“Survey work?”
“Yes.”
“For who?”
Alandre turned.
That was the first time he had asked anything specific about Thomas.
“I thought you didn’t like questions.”
“I don’t.”
“Apparently you like answers.”
Jedodiah looked away.
Alandre continued carefully.
“Before he died, Thomas worked for a land company in Helena. He discovered something. I don’t know what. He started acting nervous. He carried a lockbox everywhere.”
Jedodiah’s hand tightened on his reins.
“What color?”
Her stomach dropped.
“What?”
“The box.”
Alandre studied him.
“Black iron. Brass corners.”
Jedodiah stopped breathing for the smallest moment.
Alandre saw it.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“Jed.”
He turned his horse.
“We need to get home.”
She followed angrily.
“You asked what color it was.”
“Forget it.”
“I watched my husband die because men wanted that box.”
Jedodiah’s shoulders stiffened.
Alandre pushed her horse faster until she rode beside him.
“If you know what Thomas was carrying, you tell me.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why did you react?”
No answer.
“Jedodiah.”
His horse stopped.
So did hers.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Finally he said, “Some truths don’t help the dead.”
Alandre felt as though he had slapped her.
“But they might help the living.”
He looked at her then.
Pain moved across his face.
Real pain.
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
He almost did.
She saw the decision forming.
Then something cracked in the trees.
Jedodiah turned instantly.
His rifle came from the saddle sheath.
Alandre froze.
A deer burst through the brush.
Jedodiah lowered the gun.
The moment disappeared.
He rode home without speaking.
That evening, Alandre made cornbread.
Jedodiah barely touched it.
At last she sat across from him.
“Were you an outlaw?”
His eyes lifted.
She had expected denial.
Instead he asked, “What makes you ask?”
“The stage token. The way you recognize things about Thomas’s work. The rifle beside your chair. Living where nobody can find you.”
“I trap.”
“So do plenty of men who don’t hide at the end of the world.”
Jedodiah pushed his plate away.
“I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”
Alandre’s throat tightened.
“Crimes?”
“Yes.”
The single word chilled the room.
“What kind?”
He looked toward her.
“Enough.”
“Did you kill people?”
His expression closed.
“In my life?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
Alandre stood.
Jedodiah remained seated.
“Were they innocent?”
“Some probably were.”
She backed away.
He did not move toward her.
“Why tell me that?”
“You asked.”
“That simple?”
“No.”
His eyes looked older suddenly.
“But you deserve the truth.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You’ve spent weeks avoiding it.”
“I said you deserve it. Didn’t say I was brave enough to give all of it.”
The honesty unsettled her more than an excuse would have.
“Did you know Thomas?”
Jedodiah looked at her.
Alandre waited.
The fire popped between them.
“No,” he said.
The lie was smooth.
Too smooth.
She nodded.
Then went to bed.
Hours later, Jedodiah remained awake.
He removed Thomas’s letter again.
This time he unfolded it completely.
The first line read:
Boone—if anything happens to me, find Alandre. Clayton Reynolds knows I copied the land records.
Jedodiah stared at the words.
On the final page, Thomas had written:
If she ever reaches you, tell her the truth. All of it. Even the part that makes her hate you.
Jedodiah folded the letter.
He had promised himself he would tell her.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow became next week.
Next week became another.
And each day Alandre smiled a little more.
Each day the truth became harder.
Because Jedodiah Boone had discovered something more frightening than the law.
He had something left to lose.
Across the cabin, Alandre lay awake staring toward his bed.
And thinking about the floorboard he had touched.
The next morning, Jedodiah rode down the mountain for supplies.
Alandre waited until the sound of his horse disappeared.
May you like
Then she picked up a broom.
---
