Chapter 12 - The Night Creed Cabin Burned
Rowan moved slightly in front of Eliza.
Caleb noticed.
“You keep doing that.”
“What?”
“Standing between me and my wife.”
“Eliza isn't your wife in any way that matters.”
Caleb's smile disappeared.
Sheriff Vale raised his pistol.
“Hands where I can see them.”
Isaiah obeyed.
Rowan did too.
Eliza did not.
She held the letters tightly.
Judge Weller stepped forward.
“You have no idea what you're interfering with.”
“I think I do.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“You think this is about one bad marriage and a few disputed mines.”
Eliza stared.
“What is it about?”
“Survival.”
“For whom?”
“Everyone who built this county.”
Isaiah laughed once.
“On stolen land?”
Weller ignored him.
“Mining towns aren't governed by sermons. They're governed by money.”
“Then why bother pretending to be a judge?”
That struck.
Weller's face hardened.
Caleb stepped closer.
“Eliza, give him the papers.”
“No.”
“Don't make this difficult.”
She almost smiled.
“You've said that for six years.”
“Because you make everything difficult.”
The old reflex appeared.
Apologize.
Calm him.
Reduce yourself.
Eliza felt it rise automatically.
Then fade.
“No, Caleb.”
Two words.
That was all.
No explanation.
She owed him none.
He reached for her.
Rowan moved.
Vale cocked the pistol.
“Don't!”
Everyone froze.
Then glass shattered downstairs.
Smoke drifted beneath the door.
Isaiah smiled.
“What?”
Vale looked alarmed.
“Seems the fire jumped buildings.”
It had not.
Maeve had started a smoke barrel in the alley.
Enough to cause confusion.
Not enough to burn anything.
Samuel shouted downstairs.
“Judge! Fire!”
Weller turned.
That second was enough.
Rowan knocked Vale's pistol aside.
Isaiah blocked Caleb.
Eliza ran.
They escaped through the kitchen.
Samuel joined them.
“Horse shed.”
Maeve waited with mounts.
Ruth too.
They rode before Weller understood the trick.
“Where?” Eliza shouted.
Rowan answered.
“My cabin.”
“Caleb knows it.”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
“Something Thomas hid there.”
Eliza stared.
“What?”
“The night he died, he gave me more than the medallion.”
“You said—”
“I didn't know what it was.”
“Rowan!”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot evidence?”
“He gave me a piece of wood.”
Eliza blinked.
“A piece of wood?”
“Small cedar slat. I thought it came from a crate.”
“The cedar remembers.”
“Yes.”
Understanding dawned.
“There's writing?”
“Maybe.”
They rode through the night.
Snow fell again near the pass.
By dawn they reached Rowan's cabin.
The door stood open.
Rowan dismounted.
“Stay.”
Eliza almost argued.
Then saw his face.
Something was wrong.
He entered.
The cabin had been searched.
Mattress torn.
Chest emptied.
Shelves overturned.
Rowan went to the fireplace.
A cedar beam formed the mantel.
He ran his hand along the underside.
Found a narrow groove.
Inserted the wooden slat.
Click.
A hidden compartment opened.
Eliza laughed despite exhaustion.
“Everyone in my family loved secret compartments.”
Inside lay a rolled document.
Thomas Mercer's final statement.
Written in his own hand.
Signed.
Witnessed by Rowan Creed.
Eliza looked at Rowan.
“You witnessed this?”
“He made me sign. I never read all of it.”
“Why?”
“He was dying.”
Rowan's voice cracked.
“I didn't care about papers.”
Eliza opened the statement.
Thomas described the altered claims.
Named Weller.
Vale.
Caleb.
Continental Supply.
He described Jonah Creed's involvement as whistleblower.
And then the final paragraph.
Caleb Rourke possesses the silver Mercer watch taken from my person during our confrontation. Should he ever claim it belonged to him, that claim is false. The watch was presented to me by Margaret on our tenth wedding anniversary.
Eliza's hands shook.
The watch.
Proof Caleb had been with Thomas.
Proof he had taken something from him.
Maybe after death.
Maybe before.
“We have him.”
Rowan shook his head.
“We have evidence.”
“What's the difference?”
“Courts.”
He was right.
Thomas's statement could be challenged.
Ruth's testimony attacked.
The ledger called fraudulent.
But together?
Enough to begin.
Enough to make silence difficult.
Outside, Bishop whinnied.
Rowan turned.
“Eliza.”
“What?”
“Take the papers.”
“Why?”
“Now.”
She obeyed.
Then smelled smoke.
Real smoke.
Flames climbed the cabin's back wall.
“Out!”
They ran.
Fire spread unnaturally fast.
Kerosene.
Someone had soaked the timber.
Caleb's men emerged from the trees.
Rowan pulled Eliza behind the stone well.
Isaiah and Samuel returned fire only when shots struck near them.
Maeve and Ruth rode toward the tree line.
The cabin burned.
Eliza watched flames consume Rowan's books.
Bed.
Table.
Jonah's carved initials.
Everything.
Rowan stared.
No expression.
That was worse.
“I'm sorry.”
He looked at her.
“It's wood.”
“No.”
She understood.
“It's home.”
Flames broke through the roof.
His face finally changed.
Grief.
Then anger.
Then something calmer.
“They want us frightened.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
Eliza appreciated the answer.
“So am I.”
Rowan looked at the burning cabin.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Fear means we understand the stakes.”
The attackers retreated once Samuel's reinforcements arrived.
By noon only stone remained.
Eliza stood beside Rowan in the ashes.
He found the table legs.
Charred.
The initials gone.
J.M.
R.C.
Rowan stared at the blackened wood.
Eliza touched his hand.
He did not pull away.
“Jonah's memory wasn't in the table.”
“No.”
“Your life wasn't in the cabin.”
“No.”
“You told me people shouldn't do someone else's cruelty for them.”
Rowan looked at her.
“So don't let Caleb decide this means you have nothing.”
His fingers closed around hers.
“You're annoyingly good at remembering my own words.”
“I've had few good teachers.”
A rider approached.
Nathaniel Price.
Older.
Dust-covered.
Alive.
Eleanor's telegram had reached him.
He dismounted and looked at Eliza.
“Thomas Mercer's daughter?”
“Yes.”
Price removed his hat.
“I've spent eight years waiting for the courage to come back.”
Eliza showed him the ledger.
“Did you bring it?”
Price asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we have a chance.”
“A chance at what?”
He looked toward the smoke rising from Rowan's destroyed home.
“At bringing federal investigators.”
Eliza's hope rose.
Then Price continued.
“But Caleb knows that too.”
He handed Rowan a telegram intercepted in Fairplay.
Rourke had ordered every road east watched.
Another message had been sent south.
Their names.
Descriptions.
Reward.
Dead or alive was not written.
It did not need to be.
Nathaniel looked toward Kenosha Pass.
“If we're getting this evidence to Denver, we leave tonight.”
The storm thickened above the mountains.
May you like
And somewhere beyond the snow, Caleb Rourke was waiting.
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