Chapter 2 - The Mark Blaine Could Never Forget
May expected Blaine Mercer to throw her outside.
She had learned that survival usually depended on expecting the worst from men.
Kindness could be purchased.
Promises could be broken.
Doors could lock from the outside.
And sometimes the person smiling while offering safety was simply the person who intended to sell you next.
But Blaine did something she had not expected.
He handed her a second blanket.
“Stay away from the windows.”
Then he began preparing the cabin.
No panic.
No dramatic declarations.
No promise that everything would be fine.
He simply moved.
That somehow frightened May less than reassurance would have.
Blaine closed the shutters and checked the back window. He added wood to the stove, filled two canteens, and packed dried meat into a canvas bag.
“You have another way out?” May asked.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“If I tell you and somebody forces you to talk, then we don't.”
She stared at him.
For the first time, one corner of his mouth moved.
It wasn't quite a smile.
“Nothing personal.”
May almost laughed.
The sound that came out was closer to a cough.
Blaine looked toward her immediately.
“You need another day in bed.”
“We don't have another day.”
“No.”
That single word carried more truth than anything she had heard in months.
May pushed herself upright.
Pain crossed her ribs.
Blaine noticed but didn't mention it.
“How many?” she asked.
“I saw four riders.”
“There'll be more.”
“You know that?”
“I know Silas.”
Blaine stopped.
It was the first time she'd spoken the name aloud.
Silas Vane.
Even in the warm cabin, May felt cold.
Blaine rested the rifle against the table.
“How long were you with them?”
She looked at the blanket.
“Three years.”
His expression remained still.
“How?”
May hesitated.
“My father died when I was twenty-four. He left debts. I took work in Helena at a boardinghouse.”
She swallowed.
“A woman came through offering better wages at a hotel near the railroad. She said room and meals were included.”
Blaine understood before she finished.
“There was no hotel.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“They took six of us.”
May's eyes fixed on the fire.
“They said our debts had been purchased. They said we belonged to Vane until they were repaid.”
“What debts?”
“Whatever numbers they wanted to write.”
Blaine looked away.
His hands had tightened.
May noticed.
“You asked about Caleb.”
His eyes returned to her.
“What did you see?”
“Not yet.”
“May.”
“I need to know something first.”
“What?”
“If I tell you what I know, are you going down that mountain for revenge?”
Blaine's face hardened.
“Answer the question.”
“That is my answer.”
Silence filled the cabin.
May continued quietly.
“Men like Silas survive because angry men become predictable around them.”
Blaine's jaw worked.
“You think I don't know that?”
“I think you disappeared into these mountains for six years because whatever happened to your brother nearly destroyed you.”
The words landed harder than she intended.
Blaine turned toward the window.
May regretted them immediately.
“I didn't mean—”
“You're right.”
She stopped.
He looked toward the shutter.
“Caleb was twenty-three.”
May said nothing.
“He laughed too loud. Trusted too easily. Thought every stranger was a friend he hadn't met yet.”
Blaine's voice changed slightly.
“One morning he rode into Bitterroot Crossing to collect payment for cattle. He never came home.”
“Did you search?”
“Everywhere.”
Blaine looked back.
“Then men started telling me to stop.”
“Who?”
“Deputies. Ranchers. A judge.”
May's stomach tightened.
“Judge Harlan?”
Blaine went still.
“You know him?”
May closed her eyes.
That was another mistake.
Blaine stepped closer.
“May.”
“He's in the ledger.”
Blaine stared at her.
“So you saw it.”
“Yes.”
“You saw Caleb's name?”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
May wanted to lie.
She had survived three years by understanding exactly when truth became dangerous.
But Blaine had dragged her through a blizzard when abandoning her would have been easier.
He had covered her before cutting away frozen clothing.
He had recognized the mark and still stayed.
Maybe truth deserved one chance.
“Transfer record,” she said.
Blaine's face emptied.
“What does that mean?”
“They kept coded records at first. Later I learned how to read them.”
She spoke carefully.
“Cattle were marked C. Guns were G. People were listed P.”
Blaine said nothing.
“Caleb Mercer was listed P.”
His hand found the table.
May continued before she lost courage.
“He wasn't killed in Bitterroot Crossing.”
Blaine's breathing changed.
“Where was he taken?”
“I don't know exactly.”
“You just said—”
“The first transfer was to Red Hollow.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Where's Red Hollow?”
“An old mining settlement south of the river.”
“I've never heard of it.”
“You weren't supposed to.”
May pushed the blanket tighter around herself.
“The ledger contains transfers after that. But I only read pieces before I escaped.”
“Why steal it?”
“Because of Clara.”
“Who is Clara?”
May looked toward the floor.
“A girl who arrived last spring.”
“How old?”
“Fourteen.”
Blaine's face changed.
May's voice became harder.
“She kept saying her uncle would come for her. Silas told her nobody was coming.”
“What happened?”
“She disappeared from the compound.”
“Escaped?”
May shook her head.
“No.”
Blaine did not ask again.
May looked toward him.
“I decided if I ever found a chance, I would take proof.”
“And you did.”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
May hesitated.
“Near Black Pine Creek.”
Blaine knew it.
“That is nearly nine miles below us.”
“I hid it inside a hollow cottonwood near the old trapper bridge.”
“Why not carry it?”
“Because Silas knew I took it.”
“How?”
“He saw me leaving his office.”
Blaine swore quietly.
“I barely reached the stable. I took a horse, rode until it collapsed, then continued on foot.”
“And hid the ledger.”
“Yes.”
The barking sounded again.
Closer.
Blaine checked the window.
May's heart raced.
“They use dogs,” she whispered. “They tracked escapees before.”
“You crossed water?”
“The creek.”
“Frozen.”
“I broke through near the edge.”
That explained her condition.
Blaine considered.
“Your scent may still continue on the far bank.”
“Then they'll find the tree.”
“Eventually.”
He lifted the supply bag.
“Can you walk?”
May pushed the blankets aside.
Blaine immediately turned his back, giving her privacy while she dressed in dry clothing he had placed nearby: an oversized wool shirt, heavy trousers cinched with rope, thick socks.
None fit properly.
She had never been more grateful for clothing.
When she stood, her knees nearly collapsed.
Blaine caught her elbow.
“I can walk,” she insisted.
“You can barely stand.”
“Then teach me quickly.”
He studied her.
Again, that almost-smile.
“You're stubborn.”
“It kept me alive.”
Blaine handed her a coat.
“My mother's.”
May looked at him.
“She died a long time ago.”
The coat was heavy, dark green, lined with wool.
May put it on.
It felt like armor of a different kind.
Blaine opened a trapdoor beneath the bed.
May stared.
A narrow ladder descended into darkness.
“Root cellar?”
“Partly.”
He lit a lantern.
“It opens behind the ridge.”
“You built a tunnel?”
“Six winters is a long time.”
He gestured.
“You first.”
May stepped onto the ladder.
Then stopped.
“What about the cabin?”
Blaine looked around the place where he had lived alone for six years.
His eyes lingered on a carved chair, shelves of books, a tin cup, a small photograph near the bed.
“Cabins can be rebuilt.”
“You're abandoning everything because of me?”
“No.”
Blaine lifted the rifle.
“Because of Caleb.”
The distinction should have hurt.
Instead May understood.
They descended.
Ten minutes later, dogs reached the cabin.
From the darkness beneath the ridge, May heard men shouting.
A door shattered.
Then somebody yelled.
“She's been here!”
May looked at Blaine.
His face was unreadable.
Another voice carried through the trees.
“You hear me, May?”
Her entire body froze.
She knew that voice.
Rourke.
Silas Vane's chief tracker.
“You've made Mr. Vane very unhappy!”
Blaine placed a hand against her shoulder, grounding her.
May's lips barely moved.
“He'll burn the mountain to get that ledger.”
Blaine's eyes remained on the narrow tunnel ahead.
“Then we'd better reach it before he does.”
But behind them came another shout.
One that stopped Blaine mid-step.
A tracker inside the cabin had apparently found something.
Something Blaine had forgotten to hide.
“Mercer!” the man called.
Silence.
Then laughter.
“Well, I'll be damned.”
Blaine slowly turned.
The man shouted again.
“Tell your brother we said hello!”
May watched every trace of color leave Blaine's face.
Because Caleb Mercer had vanished six years ago.
May you like
And someone outside had just spoken as though he might still be alive.
---
