Chapter 8 - The Witness Everyone Thought Was Dead
“Are you hit?”
Boon grabbed Marcus by the shoulder.
Marcus shook his head.
“The floor.”
The bullet had struck the desk.
Cora crawled toward the opposite wall.
Outside, two riders moved among the trees.
Maybe three.
“Same men?” she whispered.
Boon looked through a crack.
“One.”
“The charming gentleman who shot my window?”
“The very one.”
“Good. I was worried I’d never dislike him properly.”
Boon gave her a quick look.
Even under fire, she could see amusement.
Then another shot punched through the wall.
Marcus covered his head.
“We’re trapped.”
“No,” Cora said.
Both men looked at her.
“The creek.”
Boon frowned.
“That is open ground.”
“Not beneath it.”
Marcus stared.
“What?”
Cora pointed toward the back.
“Old schoolhouse had a springhouse.”
Boon understood first.
“Cellar?”
“Under the stove.”
They shoved the iron stove aside.
Beneath it was a wooden hatch.
Marcus laughed nervously.
“How do you know all these tunnels?”
“I married a surveyor.”
The cellar led to a narrow stone channel built decades earlier to keep food cold.
It opened near the creek bank.
They crawled.
Boon pushed Volume Twelve ahead of him.
Cora emerged beneath a snow-covered embankment.
They could hear horses above.
She motioned downstream.
They moved beneath the trees.
Marcus slipped twice.
Boon’s wound had reopened again.
“You are going to destroy every bandage I own,” Cora whispered.
“You have remarkable priorities.”
“I liked that petticoat.”
They reached the road.
A wagon appeared.
Cora raised both arms.
The driver slowed.
She recognized Reverend Matthew.
Behind him were four farmers from Black Pine.
Boon smiled faintly.
“Your army?”
Cora looked offended.
“They’re townspeople.”
“More frightening.”
They climbed aboard.
The armed riders did not follow.
Not against six witnesses.
Back at the church, Marcus told everything.
Hyram had begun altering survey records two years earlier.
At first only abandoned claims.
Then properties belonging to elderly settlers.
Then widows.
Then anyone whose land touched the planned railroad route.
“He chose people least likely to fight,” Marcus said.
Cora felt anger rise.
Of course he had.
Predators rarely chose the strongest animal first.
They chose the isolated one.
Marcus continued.
“When Caleb noticed, Hyram panicked.”
“What exactly did he order?” Cora asked.
Marcus hesitated.
“I heard him tell Mercer to stop Caleb before he reached Helena.”
Cora’s hands curled into fists.
“That could mean anything,” Walter Grady warned.
Marcus nodded.
“I know.”
Boon asked, “What happened afterward?”
“Mercer returned the next day. His coat was torn. He and Hyram spoke privately.”
“And payment?”
“Two hundred dollars to Mercer. Two hundred to Pike.”
“Recorded?”
Marcus smiled bitterly.
“Hyram records everything.”
“Where?”
“In his private ledger.”
Cora looked at Boon.
Another ledger.
“Where is it?” Boon asked.
Marcus shook his head.
“Hyram keeps it locked inside the syndicate office safe.”
“What else is inside?”
“Stock certificates. Railroad correspondence. Personal notes.”
Grady leaned forward.
“If we obtained that ledger…”
“We don’t steal evidence,” Reverend Matthew said.
Everyone looked at him.
Cora raised an eyebrow.
The reverend sighed.
“At least not without a lawful warrant.”
Grady smiled.
“We can request one from Judge Palmer.”
Marcus laughed.
“Palmer plays cards with Hyram every Thursday.”
“Then not Palmer.”
Boon paced slowly.
“We go to Helena.”
Cora nodded.
“With Volume Twelve.”
“Caleb’s copies.”
“And Marcus.”
Marcus immediately said, “No.”
Everyone stared.
He swallowed.
“I’ll testify in Black Pine.”
“Hyram controls Black Pine,” Cora said.
“He controls the road to Helena too.”
“If you stay here, he knows exactly where you are.”
Marcus looked terrified.
Cora softened.
“He has spent months making everyone afraid individually.”
She glanced around the church.
“But look around.”
Mrs. Russell.
The Jensens.
Silas Crane.
Walter Grady.
Elias Ward.
Farmers.
Widows.
Shopkeepers.
People who had lost homes.
People who might lose them next.
“He cannot frighten all of us into silence.”
Boon watched her.
Something changed in his face.
Respect had been there before.
Now there was something deeper.
Marcus finally nodded.
“I’ll go.”
They planned to leave at dawn.
Eight people would travel together.
More witnesses.
More protection.
That evening, Cora stood outside the church.
Snow had stopped.
Stars filled the sky.
Boon joined her.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I tried.”
“You’re terrible at following advice.”
“I’ve had poor examples.”
Cora smiled.
Then silence.
Boon looked toward the mountains.
“Caleb sounds like a brave man.”
Her smile faded gently.
“He was stubborn.”
“So are you.”
“He was worse.”
“Difficult to imagine.”
She looked at him.
“Why didn’t you marry?”
The question surprised them both.
Cora almost apologized.
Boon answered instead.
“I almost did.”
“What happened?”
“She chose someone else.”
“That simple?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
Boon leaned against the church railing.
“My father offered her family money to disappear.”
Cora stared.
“What?”
“He thought she was unsuitable.”
“And?”
“They accepted.”
“She left?”
“Yes.”
“You let her?”
“I was twenty-two.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I thought if she could be bought, she never loved me.”
Cora considered.
“Did you ever ask her?”
“No.”
“Then perhaps you were both fools.”
Boon laughed quietly.
“You have a gentle way of comforting people.”
“I’m freezing. Gentleness requires warmth.”
He looked at her shawl.
The same thin gray one.
“You gave away the only warm thing you owned.”
“You keep mentioning that.”
“Because I don’t understand it.”
“There’s nothing to understand.”
“You could have died.”
“So could you.”
“You didn’t know me.”
“That seemed irrelevant at the time.”
Boon studied her.
“You saved someone who might have been dangerous.”
“You were unconscious.”
“A convincing qualification.”
She smiled.
Then Boon said softly, “Nobody has ever done anything like that for me.”
Cora’s expression changed.
For all his wealth, the statement sounded true.
“You should meet better people.”
“I think I just did.”
The words hung between them.
Cora looked away first.
She was not ready for warmth that had nothing to do with fire.
Not yet.
The church door opened.
Elias appeared.
“Boon.”
Something in his voice made them turn.
Inside, Marcus was gone.
His coat remained.
His hat remained.
The back window stood open.
On the floor lay a note.
Boon picked it up.
Three words.
THEY HAVE MY SON.
Marcus Vane had not fled because he was a coward.
Hyram had found the one thing more powerful than fear.
May you like
And by sunrise, Volume Twelve was missing again.
---
