Chapter 12 - The Storm on Jessup Ridge
Gideon hated Harriet's plan.
That improved her confidence in it.
“You cannot simply walk into a Denver bank and demand confidential financing records.”
“Why not?”
“Because that's not how banks work.”
“Then we'll ask differently.”
“That sentence frightens me.”
Harlan supported the plan until he learned Harriet intended to travel.
Then his expression changed.
“No.”
She looked at him.
He closed his eyes.
“Sorry. Habit.”
“Improving.”
“I'm coming.”
“That was already assumed.”
The train would leave from the southern junction the next morning.
They had to cross Jessup Ridge first because Vale controlled freight access through Bitter Creek station.
Snow started before dawn.
By noon, wind erased the road.
Harlan drove.
Harriet sat beside him wrapped in blankets.
Gideon remained in town with the evidence.
Josephine stayed to help Samuel.
The mountains disappeared into white.
“We should turn back,” Harlan said.
“No.”
“Visibility's twenty feet.”
“Can we reach the cabin?”
“Maybe.”
“Then we reach the cabin.”
Harlan looked at her.
“You are the most exhausting woman I've ever met.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn't praise.”
“I accepted it as such.”
They reached the ridge after dark.
The cabin was freezing.
Harlan built a fire.
Harriet shook snow from her skirt.
“If I survive Cyrus Vale, I may murder winter.”
“Hard to arrest.”
“Good.”
They ate stale bread and dried venison.
Not Harriet's finest supper.
She didn't care.
The wind grew violent.
At nine, part of the barn roof tore free.
Harlan ran outside.
Harriet followed.
“Stay in!”
“No!”
Of course.
They secured the horses in the lower stall.
By the time they returned, both were soaked.
Harlan removed his shirt near the fire.
Harriet turned away too late.
She had seen his chest before at a distance.
Not like this.
Scars crossed one shoulder.
Another long scar ran along his ribs.
He noticed her looking.
“Caleb?”
She asked softly.
Harlan nodded.
“Explosion.”
“You were there?”
“After.”
He touched the scar.
“Beam fell while we were pulling bodies.”
Harriet's heart hurt.
“You never told me.”
“Wasn't hiding it.”
“You hide everything.”
“So do you.”
She looked at him.
“Fair.”
He handed her a dry blanket.
Harriet wrapped herself.
For a long time they sat by the fire.
Then Harlan said, “If this ends badly…”
“No.”
“Harriet.”
“No.”
“I need to say something.”
“Then say something that doesn't begin with defeat.”
He looked frustrated.
“I'm not afraid of losing the ridge.”
She waited.
“I'm afraid of losing you.”
Her breath stopped.
Harlan stared into the fire.
“I've been afraid since the night of the social.”
“That was weeks ago.”
“Long weeks.”
Harriet smiled slightly.
“I thought you came because Papa sent you.”
“He gave me an excuse.”
“For what?”
“To stop being a coward.”
Harriet blinked.
“You? A coward?”
“Yes.”
“About me?”
“Especially.”
She almost laughed.
Harlan looked offended.
“You have no idea what you do to me.”
Her smile faded.
“What do I do?”
He met her eyes.
“Make me want things I decided I didn't need anymore.”
The cabin became very quiet.
“Like what?”
“A home that isn't empty.”
Harriet swallowed.
“A table with someone on the other side.”
He stood.
“Arguments about coffee.”
“Cinnamon is wrong.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“A woman who leaves flour on everything I own.”
Harriet smiled through sudden tears.
“Harlan.”
“And children, maybe.”
Her heart caught.
Nobody had ever spoken to Harriet that way.
Not as a possibility.
Not as a woman someone imagined building a future beside.
She looked down.
“What?”
He knelt in front of her.
“Tell me.”
Harriet's voice shook.
“What if I can't?”
“Can't what?”
“Give you that.”
“Children?”
She nodded.
“My mother had trouble. I…”
She had never admitted this fear aloud.
“I don't know.”
Harlan took her hand.
“Then we don't.”
She looked up.
“That simple?”
“Yes.”
“But you said—”
“I said maybe.”
“What if you regret it?”
“What if I get kicked by a horse tomorrow? What if you decide my coffee is unforgivable?”
“It is.”
“See?”
She laughed through tears.
He squeezed her fingers.
“I want you. Not some bargain attached to you.”
The word bargain touched a nerve.
Harriet whispered, “Everyone bargains.”
“No.”
“Vale does.”
“Vale buys.”
“What's the difference?”
Harlan thought.
“A bargain leaves both people free to walk away.”
Harriet stared.
That was it.
Everything she had feared about affection was tied to obligation.
Harlan never made kindness a debt.
Not when she refused his money.
Not when she challenged him.
Not even now.
She leaned forward and kissed him.
The storm thundered outside.
For once Harriet did not think about her size.
Or Pearl.
Or Josephine.
Or the town.
She simply let herself be held.
When they separated, Harlan rested his forehead against hers.
“After this is over…”
“Yes?”
“I want to ask you something.”
Her heart raced.
“Why not ask now?”
“Because I don't want Cyrus Vale mixed into the memory.”
Harriet smiled.
“That may be the most romantic thing you've ever said.”
“Samuel would disagree.”
“Papa thinks you buying bread was courtship.”
“It was.”
She laughed.
At dawn the storm weakened.
They discovered a tree had fallen across the trail.
Harlan worked with an ax for an hour.
Harriet dragged branches.
By seven, they cleared enough to pass.
At nine, they reached the southern junction.
The Denver train sat at the platform.
Steam rolled beneath the wheels.
Harriet smiled.
“We made it.”
Then a conductor stepped forward.
“Train isn't leaving.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Why?”
“Bridge washed out south.”
Harlan stared.
“How long?”
“Two days. Maybe three.”
Three days.
Vale's deadline was November thirtieth.
Today was the twenty-eighth.
Harriet looked at Harlan.
Denver was more than a hundred miles away.
The railroad was blocked.
Vale's deadline was forty-eight hours away.
And their only remaining evidence was not enough.
Then Harlan looked toward the freight yard.
A locomotive sat alone on a side track.
Harriet followed his gaze.
“No.”
He glanced at her.
“You don't even know what I'm thinking.”
“You're thinking something illegal.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Harlan.”
A voice behind them spoke.
“Actually, I believe I can help.”
They turned.
Pearl Hollister stood on the platform carrying a suitcase.
Beside her was a gray-haired man in a railway engineer's coat.
Pearl smiled.
“This is my father.”
May you like
The engineer tipped his hat.
“And I still remember how to drive a locomotive.”
