Chapter 4 - Footprints Outside the Door
Caleb did not ride directly to the cabin.
That was what frightened Eliza most.
If he had been angry enough to charge across the clearing, shouting her name, she would have understood him.
Caleb was dangerous when furious.
He was worse when calm.
Instead, he stopped twenty yards from Rowan's porch and looked around.
Two men waited behind him.
Eliza recognized one.
Silas Vane.
A freight driver who worked routes between Jefferson and the mining camps.
The third man was unfamiliar.
Rowan remained beside the window.
“Back room.”
Eliza shook her head.
“There isn't one.”
Rowan nodded toward a narrow door disguised between shelves.
She had assumed it was a pantry.
“Root cellar.”
“I can't walk.”
“I'll help.”
Fear flashed through her.
Then she nodded.
Rowan crossed the room and lifted her.
He moved quickly but carefully.
The hidden door led to three steep steps and a shallow storage room dug into the mountain slope.
Potatoes.
Flour.
Preserved fruit.
A small ventilation slit near the ceiling.
Rowan set Eliza on folded sacks.
“What if he searches?”
“He probably will.”
Her eyes widened.
“You sound very calm.”
“Panic makes poor ammunition.”
Despite everything, she nearly smiled.
Rowan removed his coat and put it around her shoulders.
“Stay quiet.”
“Don't let him inside.”
“I won't invite him.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
Rowan looked at her.
“I know.”
Eliza caught his sleeve.
“Do not kill him.”
Something passed through Rowan's face.
“I don't intend to kill anyone.”
“Caleb may not give you a choice.”
“Then let's hope he's wiser than you think.”
“He isn't.”
Rowan gently freed his sleeve.
He closed the hidden door.
Darkness swallowed Eliza.
She heard his boots cross the cabin.
Then the front door opened.
“Afternoon.”
Caleb answered.
“Creed.”
Eliza's heart stopped.
They knew each other.
She leaned toward the wall.
“You've got business here?” Rowan asked.
“Looking for my wife.”
“Didn't know you were married.”
“Plenty you don't know.”
Caleb's voice held a smile.
Eliza could picture it.
The pleasant expression he used around other men.
The one that had convinced half of Jefferson he was generous.
“Woman went missing yesterday,” Caleb continued. “Had an accident on the road.”
“Accident?”
“Horse spooked.”
Eliza's stomach twisted.
“She fall?”
“Yes.”
“Bad?”
“Don't know. Couldn't find her.”
Rowan was silent.
Caleb continued.
“Thought perhaps she'd come this direction.”
“Why?”
“She gets confused.”
Eliza pressed her nails into her palms.
There it was.
The story being created.
She was confused.
Emotional.
Unwell.
Caleb had used those words before.
Never in private.
Only around people whose opinions mattered.
“What's her name?” Rowan asked.
A pause.
“Elizabeth Rourke.”
Eliza shut her eyes.
Not Mercer.
Never Mercer.
Rowan's answer came evenly.
“Haven't seen an Elizabeth Rourke.”
Silence.
Long.
Dangerous.
Caleb spoke again.
“You mind if I come inside?”
“Yes.”
The blunt answer almost startled a laugh from Eliza.
“What?”
“I mind.”
“Why?”
“Because it's my cabin.”
Silas muttered something outside.
Caleb's pleasant mask slipped slightly.
“You hiding something, Creed?”
“Coffee beans.”
Caleb laughed.
Not sincerely.
“You always were strange.”
“So I've heard.”
Eliza's mind raced.
How did they know each other?
“Been a long time,” Caleb said.
“Seven years.”
“Eight.”
Another pause.
“Could be.”
Eliza's breath stopped.
Eight years.
The number seemed to follow her everywhere.
Eight years since her father's death.
Eight years since Rowan met him.
Eight years since Caleb's watch might have changed hands.
“I heard you quit guiding freight,” Caleb said.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Got tired of people.”
“Still holding grudges?”
“Depends who's asking.”
Silence again.
Eliza wanted desperately to see their faces.
Then a floorboard creaked.
Caleb had entered.
Rowan had told him not to.
Eliza heard the shift immediately.
A chair moved.
“You said you minded.”
“Yet here I am.”
Caleb.
Always testing.
Always crossing one boundary to see whether the next one existed.
“You should step outside.”
Rowan's voice had changed.
Lower.
Eliza recognized danger now.
Caleb must have as well.
“Relax.”
Boots crossed the floor.
Closer.
Closer to the hidden door.
Eliza pressed herself against the wall.
“You living alone?” Caleb asked.
“Yes.”
“Smells like broth.”
“I eat.”
“Two bowls.”
Eliza's blood chilled.
She had dropped hers earlier.
Had Rowan cleaned it?
Apparently not.
A moment passed.
Caleb's boots stopped.
“Who's here?”
“No one you need to meet.”
Wrong answer.
Eliza knew it instantly.
Caleb laughed softly.
“You found her.”
Silence.
“Didn't you?”
Rowan said nothing.
Caleb continued.
“I appreciate you helping Elizabeth. She's not well.”
A chair scraped sharply.
“Don't.”
Rowan's single word contained more warning than shouting could have.
Caleb noticed.
“So she told you stories.”
“No.”
“She does that.”
“Interesting.”
“What's interesting?”
“You keep explaining a woman who isn't here.”
Eliza covered her mouth.
Caleb's boots moved again.
“She stole money from me.”
The lie came easily.
“She's my wife. She embarrassed me. Ran after we argued.”
“What kind of argument?”
“Marriage isn't your concern.”
“No.”
Rowan paused.
“But finding beaten women in ravines tends to become my concern.”
Silence.
Complete.
Eliza heard nothing for three heartbeats.
Then Caleb's voice returned.
Very quiet.
“You want to be careful, Creed.”
“I'm always careful.”
“You don't know what you're involving yourself in.”
“Then explain it.”
“I came for my wife.”
“And I told you she isn't here.”
Another silence.
Then Caleb said something that changed everything.
“Thomas Mercer said nearly the same thing once.”
Eliza's breath caught.
Rowan did not answer.
Caleb laughed.
“I wondered whether you'd remember that name.”
The cellar suddenly seemed too small.
“You should leave,” Rowan said.
“Maybe.”
Caleb's boots moved.
Eliza dared to breathe again.
Then they stopped directly in front of the hidden door.
She could see the faint shadow beneath it.
A hand touched the shelving outside.
Rowan spoke.
“Caleb.”
“Yes?”
“If you open that door, whatever happens afterward is your choice.”
A long pause.
The hand remained.
Then withdrew.
Caleb stepped away.
“Tell Elizabeth I'll return.”
“She isn't here.”
“Of course.”
Boots crossed the cabin.
The front door opened.
Before leaving, Caleb added casually:
“And Creed?”
“Yes?”
“You should've burned Thomas Mercer's medallion when you had the chance.”
Eliza felt the floor vanish beneath her.
The door closed.
Minutes passed before Rowan opened the cellar.
Eliza stared up at him.
His face was pale beneath the beard.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew him eight years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't tell me.”
“I didn't know he was your Caleb.”
“Tell me everything.”
Rowan offered his hand.
This time Eliza took it.
He helped her into the cabin.
Outside, the riders disappeared among the trees.
Rowan shut the door.
Then he spoke the sentence he had avoided since finding her.
“Caleb Rourke was with your father the night he died.”
And suddenly Eliza understood that surviving Caleb was no longer the whole battle.
She would have to uncover what he had done eight years earlier—
May you like
before he returned to silence her permanently.
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