Chapter 3 - Barking Dogs in the Valley
For six years, Blaine had imagined a thousand endings for Caleb.
None included the possibility that his brother was still alive.
Hope was a cruel thing when resurrected without permission.
It distracted.
Made a man reckless.
May saw it happen to Blaine within seconds.
He turned toward the tunnel entrance.
“No.”
Her voice stopped him.
Blaine looked back.
“They want you to go up there.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know Rourke.”
The name alone made her shoulders tighten.
“He saw your name inside the cabin. Maybe a photograph. Maybe letters. He knows exactly what to say.”
Blaine didn't answer.
May moved closer.
“If they truly had Caleb and wanted you to know, why wait six years?”
That landed.
Blaine's breathing slowed.
Above them, boots crossed the cabin floor.
Someone overturned furniture.
Rourke called again.
“Come on out, Mercer!”
Blaine stared into darkness.
May whispered, “That's how they win.”
“How?”
“They learn what you love.”
The sentence echoed between them.
Blaine finally turned away.
“Move.”
They traveled through the cramped tunnel until it opened behind a formation of granite several hundred yards north of the cabin.
The blizzard had filled most of the ravine.
Blaine concealed the exit with branches.
Then they climbed.
May's condition slowed them badly.
Every twenty steps her breathing became ragged.
Every hundred she had to stop.
Blaine never complained.
He simply adjusted the pack and waited.
Below, smoke suddenly rose.
May stared.
“They burned it.”
Blaine did not look back.
His home disappeared behind the ridge.
By midday they reached a narrow ledge overlooking Black Pine Creek.
The frozen water shone between dark trees.
“The bridge is south,” May said.
“We aren't using it.”
“The tree is beside it.”
“I know.”
He pointed toward the opposite ridge.
“We'll circle above them.”
“That adds hours.”
“It also keeps us alive.”
May studied him.
“Do you always speak as though every sentence costs money?”
“Mostly.”
She nearly smiled.
It surprised both of them.
They continued.
Behind them, the trackers spread across the valley.
Rourke had six men now.
Maybe more.
The dogs found the tunnel exit before noon.
Blaine knew because barking shifted north.
“They're good,” he muttered.
“They've done this before.”
He glanced at May.
“How many people tried?”
“To escape?”
“Yes.”
May didn't answer.
Blaine understood.
The afternoon became a race.
May slipped twice.
The second time, she hit the snow hard and could not rise.
Blaine crouched.
“We rest.”
“No.”
“You're done.”
“If we stop, they're closer.”
“If you collapse, they're closer.”
May looked furious.
Mostly because he was right.
Blaine found an overhang and made a tiny smokeless warming fire.
He handed her dried venison.
May chewed mechanically.
After several minutes she asked, “Why did you come here?”
“To the mountain?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted quiet.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is.”
“No. Quiet is what people say when they don't want to say grief.”
Blaine looked at her.
“You ask a lot of questions for somebody using my coat.”
“Your mother's coat.”
“Exactly.”
May lowered her eyes.
“Sorry.”
Blaine surprised her.
“I was engaged once.”
She looked up.
“Her name was Abigail.”
“What happened?”
“She waited for me while I searched for Caleb.”
His gaze drifted toward the valley.
“One month became six. Six became a year. I started seeing Vane's men everywhere. I accused people without proof. Got into fights. Spent every dollar I had following rumors.”
“Did she leave?”
“I told her to.”
“Why?”
“Because I became someone she should leave.”
May said nothing for a while.
“Do you regret it?”
Blaine stared at the small flame.
“Every day.”
The honesty disarmed her.
“Where is she now?”
“Married. Two children. Wyoming.”
“Do you still love her?”
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“But I still regret hurting her.”
May nodded.
Some regrets survived after love died.
She understood that.
By late afternoon, they reached the ridge above the bridge.
Blaine crawled forward and looked down.
Three riders waited near the cottonwood.
May's stomach sank.
“They found it.”
“Not yet.”
“How can you tell?”
“They wouldn't still be searching.”
One man struck the tree with an axe.
May flinched.
Blaine studied the terrain.
“Show me exactly where.”
May pointed.
“The trunk splits about six feet up. There's a hollow facing the creek.”
Blaine nodded.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You don't even know what you're looking for.”
“A book.”
“Wrapped in oilcloth, inside a flour sack, behind loose bark.”
Blaine looked at her.
“Now I know.”
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
May stood.
“You don't get to save me and then decide I'm useless.”
“This isn't about usefulness.”
“Then what?”
“You can barely walk.”
“And you need to know which ledger is real.”
Blaine frowned.
May continued.
“Silas kept decoys.”
“You didn't mention that.”
“You didn't ask.”
The almost-smile appeared again.
“I'm starting to dislike you.”
“Good. That means I'm recovering.”
Blaine considered.
“Stay behind me.”
They descended through timber.
The sun had begun dropping behind the mountains.
Blaine moved like he belonged to the snow itself.
May followed badly but quietly.
At the creek they crawled beneath fallen branches.
The three riders were less than fifty yards away.
One cursed.
“Nothing!”
Another answered, “Rourke said she crossed here.”
The third kicked snow.
May leaned close to Blaine's ear.
“The tall one is Kellan.”
“Dangerous?”
“All of them are dangerous.”
“Helpful.”
She almost smiled again.
Then Kellan turned.
Blaine pulled May down.
They remained motionless.
Eventually the men mounted.
“We'll check downstream,” Kellan said. “If we don't find it, burn every tree.”
They rode away.
Blaine waited ten full minutes.
Then another five.
Only after birds returned did he move.
They reached the cottonwood.
May climbed awkwardly onto a root.
Her hands searched the hollow.
Nothing.
Her face changed.
“No.”
Blaine checked the ground.
“Maybe they found it.”
“No. The bark was placed differently.”
She reached deeper.
Empty.
May backed away.
“It was here.”
Blaine crouched near the snow.
Tracks.
Not fresh enough to belong to the riders who had just left.
One set.
Small boots.
Someone else had visited the tree before them.
Blaine studied the trail.
“Who knew?”
“Nobody.”
“Somebody did.”
May looked terrified.
Then she noticed something carved into the trunk.
Three lines.
A circle.
Not the Vane symbol.
Something else.
Her fingers touched it.
“I know this.”
“From where?”
“Clara.”
Blaine looked at her.
“The girl?”
“She carved this shape on everything. Said her mother taught it to her.”
“What does it mean?”
May stared at the mark.
“Home.”
Blaine followed the tracks north.
A possibility emerged.
“You said Clara disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see a body?”
“No.”
“You assumed.”
May's eyes widened.
The tracks led toward an abandoned trapper hut two miles away.
By dusk, they reached it.
Blaine approached with rifle ready.
The door opened before he touched it.
A shotgun barrel appeared.
Then a woman's voice.
“One more step and you lose your hat along with your head.”
Blaine slowly raised his hands.
May looked around his shoulder.
The weapon lowered.
A middle-aged woman stood inside.
Behind her was a thin teenage girl.
May stopped breathing.
“Clara?”
The girl burst into tears.
May crossed the distance and embraced her.
Blaine remained still, stunned.
Clara was alive.
And in her hands was the missing ledger.
But that wasn't what Blaine noticed first.
On the table beside Clara lay an old silver pocket watch.
He recognized it immediately.
He had given it to Caleb on his twenty-first birthday.
Blaine stepped inside.
His voice barely worked.
“Where did you get that?”
Clara looked at the watch.
Then at him.
“From the man who helped me escape.”
Blaine's heart hammered.
“What man?”
Clara swallowed.
May you like
“He said his name was Caleb Mercer.”
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