Chapter 17 - When the Syndicate Began to Collapse
News of Silas's escape reached Haven House before breakfast.
May dropped a plate.
It broke on the kitchen floor.
For a second she was back in Red Hollow.
Running.
Hiding.
Listening for footsteps.
Then Blaine crouched beside her.
“May.”
She looked at him.
“He's out.”
“Yes.”
“He'll come.”
“Maybe.”
“You know he will.”
Blaine didn't lie.
“Yes.”
May's breathing quickened.
Blaine took her hand.
“You don't have to be fearless.”
She closed her eyes.
“I hate that my body does this.”
“Does what?”
“Remembers him.”
Blaine waited.
May's breathing slowed.
Then she looked around Haven House.
Children eating.
Ruth organizing supplies.
Clara arguing with Caleb about curtains.
People living.
“No,” May said.
Blaine frowned.
“No what?”
“We are not running.”
He smiled.
“I hoped you'd say that.”
Federal marshals wanted everyone evacuated.
May refused.
So did Ruth.
So did Caleb.
Blaine took a more practical view.
“We don't need to run. We do need to be smart.”
Haven House sat in open country.
Too easy to surround.
They moved children and vulnerable residents to Bitterroot Crossing temporarily.
Adults who chose to remain prepared.
No speeches.
No fantasies.
Rourke was dangerous.
Silas was desperate.
Desperate men often became less predictable, not more.
Marshal Cole stationed deputies around the property.
Two days passed.
Nothing.
Then a letter arrived.
No signature.
Bring the original ledger to your old cabin at midnight. Come alone, May.
Blaine stared at it.
“My cabin doesn't exist.”
May noticed something.
“He doesn't know.”
“What?”
“That Rourke burned it completely.”
Caleb smiled slowly.
“He's using information from before Winter House.”
“Meaning?”
May looked at Blaine.
“Silas and Rourke aren't together.”
That mattered.
If Rourke had rescued Silas but then separated, perhaps loyalty had broken.
Caleb found confirmation in the syndicate records.
Rourke had money hidden independently.
He wasn't saving Silas.
He was using him.
The ledger remained powerful blackmail.
Blaine looked at the letter.
“We answer.”
“How?” May asked.
“Give him what he thinks he wants.”
That evening Blaine climbed toward the ruins of his cabin.
Alone visibly.
Not actually.
Caleb and Cole's deputies spread across the ridge.
May remained farther back.
She hated it.
But this time she accepted that courage included letting others help.
At midnight, a figure appeared.
Rourke.
No Silas.
“You brought it?” he asked.
Blaine held up the ledger.
“Where's Vane?”
Rourke laughed.
“Why do you care?”
“I like complete collections.”
“Silas is finished.”
“Yet you broke him out.”
“I needed his account numbers.”
Blaine understood.
“You want to disappear.”
“Yes.”
“And the ledger?”
“No loose ends.”
Blaine tossed a wrapped package into snow.
Rourke approached.
He opened it.
Blank pages.
His face hardened.
“Again?”
Blaine almost smiled.
“You should stop trusting me with books.”
Rourke reached inside his coat.
Deputies emerged.
“Don't,” Cole called.
Rourke froze.
For a moment escape seemed possible.
Then Caleb stepped from the opposite side.
“Evening.”
Rourke looked around.
Defeat settled over him.
“Silas was right about you Mercers.”
Blaine nodded.
“Usually annoying?”
Rourke almost laughed.
Then he surrendered.
“Where is Silas?” Cole asked.
Rourke's answer changed the night.
“I don't know.”
“You broke him out.”
“I did.”
“Then?”
“He turned on me.”
Rourke touched his side.
Bandage beneath coat.
“Took a horse.”
“Direction?”
“Bitterroot Crossing.”
Blaine's expression changed.
May.
But May wasn't in town.
She was behind the ridge.
Then Caleb understood.
“Haven House.”
Silas wouldn't attack May.
Not first.
He would attack what she created.
They rode down the mountain.
By the time Haven House appeared, flames illuminated the sky.
May saw them first.
“No.”
The west barn burned.
People carried buckets.
Marshal deputies shouted.
Blaine dismounted before his horse stopped.
“Anyone inside?”
Ruth ran toward them.
“No.”
“May?”
“Here,” May said.
Blaine turned.
Relief crossed his face.
Then a shot sounded.
Not close.
From the trees.
Everyone ducked.
Silas Vane stood beyond the fence.
He had one horse.
No army.
No syndicate.
No purchased sheriff.
One man at the edge of a burning barn.
May stared.
For years he had seemed enormous.
Now he looked tired.
Old.
Alone.
Silas called, “Look what you built!”
May stepped forward before Blaine could stop her.
“No.”
She looked at the people carrying water.
“You're looking at what we built.”
Silas glanced around.
Nobody was running.
Nobody obeyed him.
That seemed to wound him more deeply than prison.
“You took everything.”
May shook her head.
“You did.”
Silas raised his arm.
Marshal Cole shouted.
Blaine moved toward May.
Before anything happened, the roof of the burning barn collapsed between them.
Sparks exploded.
Silas's horse panicked.
It carried him into darkness.
Cole sent riders after him.
Blaine turned to May.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
He smiled slightly.
“Better answer.”
By morning, the fire was out.
The barn was gone.
Haven House remained.
And throughout Montana, the rest of Silas's organization was collapsing.
Men who had once protected him now competed to testify first.
Banks froze accounts.
Railroad companies released records.
Families identified missing relatives.
Fear moved in the opposite direction.
Away from victims.
Toward the men responsible.
Yet Silas remained missing.
Then a winter storm warning arrived.
The largest storm of the season would strike by evening.
Caleb looked toward the mountains.
“He can't survive out there long.”
Blaine knew one place Silas might try.
A place with supplies.
A place nobody else knew better than Blaine.
His mountain.
Silas Vane was heading toward the ruins of Blaine's cabin.
May you like
The story was returning to where it had begun.
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