Chapter 6 - A Cabin With Only One Way Out
Blaine watched his brother ride beneath the moon.
Six years of grief should have prepared him for anything.
It had not prepared him for that coat.
The Vane insignia showed clearly on Caleb's chest.
Clara whispered, “That's him.”
Blaine lowered the field glasses.
“You said he helped you.”
“He did.”
“Then why is he wearing their mark?”
“I don't know.”
May answered before Clara could.
“Because sometimes the safest place to hide is inside the thing hunting you.”
Blaine looked at her.
“You're guessing.”
“So are you.”
Below, the caravan continued east.
Blaine wanted to ride down.
Every muscle in his body demanded it.
But nearly thirty armed men surrounded the wagons.
He would not reach Caleb.
He would only die where his brother could see it.
“We go to Elk Ridge,” May said.
Blaine stayed silent.
“Blaine.”
“I heard you.”
“If we send the ledger—”
“I said I heard you.”
His voice was sharper than intended.
May looked away.
Immediately Blaine regretted it.
“This isn't your fault.”
She gave him a tired smile.
“I've heard men say worse things.”
“That doesn't make it acceptable.”
That surprised her.
He rarely apologized.
They waited until the caravan disappeared.
Then rode toward Elk Ridge.
Snow began again near dawn.
The maintenance station stood beside a narrow railroad line cut through granite.
A red building.
One signal tower.
No smoke.
Blaine dismounted.
Something was wrong.
The door hung open.
Inside, the telegraph operator lay unconscious beside the desk.
Alive.
Barely.
The telegraph key had been smashed.
Wires ripped from the wall.
May closed her eyes.
“Silas.”
Blaine checked outside.
“No tracks except one horse.”
“Rourke?”
“Maybe.”
Ruth found a note nailed to the rear door.
One sentence.
THE MOUNTAIN IS GETTING SMALLER, MERCER.
Clara started crying.
Ruth pulled her close.
Blaine tore the note down.
May looked at the broken telegraph.
“Can it be repaired?”
Blaine shook his head.
“Not quickly.”
“Where is the next station?”
“Bitterroot Crossing.”
Nobody spoke.
Silas was forcing them exactly where he wanted.
May searched the office.
Maps hung on the wall.
Railroad schedules.
Supply records.
Then she found something important.
“A freight train.”
Blaine looked over.
“Tomorrow morning.”
She pointed to a schedule.
“Stops for water six miles east.”
“Doesn't help us.”
“Yes, it does.”
Ruth understood.
“Mail car.”
May nodded.
“If we make copies of ledger pages and get them onto the train—”
“They reach Helena.”
Blaine looked at the clock.
“Train arrives in nine hours.”
They began working.
The station had paper.
Ink.
May selected the most important pages.
Names.
Payments.
Transfers.
Locations.
Ruth and Clara copied while Blaine kept watch.
They made six packets.
Three for newspapers.
One for the territorial governor's office.
One for a federal marshal.
One for a church relief society Ruth trusted.
The sixth remained with them.
By midday, wind howled outside.
The injured operator regained consciousness.
His name was Ellis Grant.
He remembered a man entering before dawn.
“Gray coat,” he whispered.
Rourke.
“He asked whether anybody had come through.”
“Did you answer?” Blaine asked.
Ellis managed a weak laugh.
“Told him he could kiss my frozen backside.”
Blaine almost smiled.
“He hit me.”
“You did well.”
“I've done smarter things.”
Ellis looked at May.
“Is she worth all this?”
Blaine glanced at her.
“Yes.”
The answer came so quickly that May looked down.
At dusk they left for the water stop.
A maintenance cabin stood nearby.
One room.
One door.
No back exit.
Blaine hated it instantly.
But the storm had become too severe to remain outside.
“We wait here,” he said.
They tied the horses behind a windbreak.
Inside, they lit no lamps.
The freight train was due before sunrise.
May sat against the wall.
Blaine beside the door.
Hours passed.
Then May whispered, “Why did you say yes?”
Blaine looked over.
“What?”
“When Ellis asked if I was worth this.”
“You wanted me to say no?”
“No.”
“Then why ask?”
May smiled faintly.
“I've forgotten what it feels like when someone thinks I matter.”
Blaine's expression softened.
“You matter.”
May looked toward the floor.
“You don't know me.”
“I know enough.”
“You know what Silas did to me.”
“No.”
Blaine's voice was quiet.
“I know what you survived.”
She looked at him.
“They're different.”
The words reached somewhere deep.
For years May had thought of herself as what had been done to her.
Owned.
Branded.
Used.
Broken.
Blaine spoke as though none of that defined her.
She looked away before he saw tears.
“What happens after this?” she asked.
“If we survive?”
“Yes.”
“Never plan farther than breakfast.”
“That explains your personality.”
He nearly laughed.
Then a horse screamed outside.
Blaine was on his feet instantly.
“Down.”
The window shattered.
Everyone dropped.
A voice called through the storm.
“Mercer!”
Rourke.
They had been found.
The cabin had one door.
One window.
Nowhere to run.
Rourke spoke again.
“We don't want the girl.”
May frowned.
Then his next words changed everything.
“We want the ledger.”
Blaine looked at her.
Rourke laughed outside.
“And if you hand it over, we'll give you Caleb.”
Silence.
Then another voice came through the wind.
Weak.
Hoarse.
But unmistakable.
“Blaine?”
Blaine stopped breathing.
May grabbed his arm.
Outside the cabin stood Rourke.
May you like
And somewhere beside him was Caleb Mercer.
---
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