Chapter 9 - What Boon Never Told Her
Boon found Marcus’s tracks behind the church.
One set.
He had left voluntarily.
At least at first.
Cora stood beside him.
“His son?”
“Did you know he had one?”
Boon shook his head.
Elias did.
“Thomas Vane. Twelve years old. Lives with Marcus’s sister outside Black Pine.”
Cora closed her eyes.
“Hyram took a child.”
“We don’t know that,” Reverend Matthew said.
Cora looked at him.
The reverend sighed.
“All right. We know.”
Boon returned inside.
Volume Twelve was gone.
So was the railroad contract.
But Caleb’s copies remained hidden beneath the church altar where Cora had insisted on putting them.
“You expected this?” Boon asked.
“I expect everything now.”
Walter Grady examined the window.
“Hyram has the original book again.”
“And Marcus,” Cora said.
Boon shook his head.
“Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wants the witness controlled.”
“By using his son.”
“Yes.”
“Then where would Marcus go?”
“The syndicate ranch.”
Cora stared at him.
“You sound certain.”
“I know how Hyram thinks.”
“Because he worked for your father?”
Boon looked away.
Cora noticed.
There it was again.
The hidden thing.
She folded her arms.
“No.”
Boon glanced back.
“No what?”
“No more secrets.”
“Cora—”
“You expect Marcus to testify. Elias to testify. Me to trust you.”
“I have not asked you to trust me.”
“You have every time you say follow me.”
Boon was silent.
Cora stepped closer.
“You knew Hyram before he worked for your father, didn’t you?”
His expression answered.
Elias looked surprised.
“Boon?”
Boon sat.
For the first time since Cora had met him, he seemed reluctant rather than controlled.
“My mother died when I was six.”
Cora waited.
“My father sent me to ranch camps during summers. Said I needed to learn the business.”
“Hyram was there.”
“Yes.”
“He taught me to ride.”
Cora’s anger softened slightly.
“To shoot?”
“Yes.”
“To track?”
“Yes.”
“That explains the annoying competence.”
Boon almost smiled.
Then it disappeared.
“Hyram was closer to me than my father for years.”
Cora understood.
Not an employee.
Almost family.
“He saved my life once.”
“How?”
“River crossing. I was fourteen. Horse went down.”
Boon rubbed his hands together.
“Hyram pulled me out.”
“So your father trusted him because you trusted him.”
“Yes.”
“And you trusted him because he saved you.”
“Yes.”
Cora sat opposite.
“What changed?”
“Nothing.”
She frowned.
“That is the problem.”
Boon looked at the floor.
“He became more ambitious. More secretive. I noticed. I ignored it.”
“Why?”
“Because admitting what he was becoming meant admitting I had been wrong about him for twenty years.”
Cora knew that feeling.
Grief did strange things to truth.
Sometimes people protected memories because the alternative hurt more.
“What else?”
Boon looked up.
“My father discovered discrepancies before he died.”
Elias swore softly.
“You knew?”
“Not until six months ago.”
“What did he find?”
“Private cattle sales. Missing funds.”
“Did he confront Hyram?”
“I think so.”
“And then your father died.”
Boon’s expression hardened.
“Heart attack.”
Cora said quietly, “You don’t believe that.”
“I don’t know what I believe.”
Now she understood why he had come personally.
This was not only business.
Hyram stood at the center of both their dead.
Maybe by coincidence.
Maybe not.
“Did your father leave anything?”
“A letter.”
“What did it say?”
Boon recited from memory.
If anything happens before I remove Cole, do not trust the books.
Cora stared.
“You came here carrying that?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I had no proof.”
“That did not stop you from nearly dying.”
“No.”
Cora stood.
“We are finding Marcus.”
Boon rose.
“We?”
“You heard me.”
“Cora, the syndicate ranch is thirty miles south and guarded.”
“So?”
“So this is not your fight.”
The room went silent.
Cora walked toward him.
Boon realized his mistake too late.
“Not my fight?”
“I meant—”
“My husband is dead.”
“I know.”
“My house is under eviction.”
“Yes.”
“My land appears in forged records.”
“Yes.”
“Hyram’s men shot through my window.”
Boon exhaled.
“Yes.”
She pointed toward the door.
“And you are going to tell me this is not my fight?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Boon looked toward Grady.
“Do you see what I’ve been dealing with?”
Cora almost smiled.
They did not storm the ranch.
That was Cora’s idea, surprisingly.
“We need Thomas first.”
Marcus’s son had been staying with his aunt, Clara Vane, four miles outside town.
They rode there.
The house was empty.
But not disturbed.
No sign of struggle.
On the kitchen table lay a wooden toy horse.
Beneath it, a note.
MARCUS—COME ALONE TO SOUTH LINE CABIN.
Boon examined it.
“Hyram knows Marcus would obey.”
Cora opened the pantry.
Food remained.
Coats remained.
“Where is Clara?”
A sound came from upstairs.
Boon drew his pistol.
Cora followed.
They found Clara Vane locked in a bedroom.
Alive.
Furious.
“Hyram’s men took Tommy yesterday afternoon.”
“Did you see them?”
“One. Owen Pike.”
Cora went still.
The name.
One of the men paid after Caleb’s death.
“Pike is back?”
Clara nodded.
“Got back from Idaho two weeks ago.”
Cora looked at Boon.
They finally had a living link to Caleb.
“Where is the south line cabin?” she asked.
Boon answered.
“Near the old cattle ford.”
“How far?”
“Three hours.”
They rode hard.
At sunset they reached the ridge above the cabin.
Below, two horses.
One wagon.
Three men.
Cora saw Marcus tied near the porch.
A boy sat beside him.
Alive.
Boon used field glasses.
“Hyram isn’t there.”
“Owen Pike?”
He nodded.
Cora took the glasses.
A thin man with blond hair stood near the barn.
She remembered him from town.
She had seen him at Caleb’s funeral.
The realization almost made her drop the glasses.
“He came to the funeral.”
Boon looked at her.
“What?”
“Owen Pike.”
Her voice shook.
“He stood twenty feet from me while they buried Caleb.”
Boon’s expression turned cold.
Cora gave the glasses back.
“How do we get them out?”
“We wait until dark.”
“Then?”
“I distract the guards.”
“And I?”
“Take Thomas.”
“And Marcus.”
“If possible.”
Cora stared.
“All of them.”
Boon nodded.
“All of them.”
Night fell.
The rescue went wrong almost immediately.
Boon created noise near the barn.
One guard moved.
The second did not.
Cora crawled behind the cabin.
Thomas saw her.
She pressed a finger to her lips.
The boy nodded.
Brave child.
Too brave.
She cut the rope around his wrists.
Then Marcus.
A door opened.
Owen Pike stepped out.
He saw Cora.
His face changed.
“Well.”
Cora stood slowly.
Pike smiled.
“Caleb’s widow.”
Her blood ran cold.
“You remember me.”
“Oh, I remember Caleb.”
Boon appeared behind the barn.
Pike raised his rifle.
Cora stepped between.
“Did you kill him?”
Pike laughed.
“Move.”
“Did you?”
His smile faded.
“He should’ve minded his own property.”
Cora felt the world narrow.
Marcus whispered, “Cora.”
She did not move.
Pike continued.
“Hyram only wanted the papers.”
Boon had reached cover.
Cora kept Pike talking.
“And Caleb refused.”
“He always was stubborn.”
“You knew him.”
“Long enough.”
“Did you push him?”
Pike’s expression answered before his mouth did.
“He fought.”
Cora’s eyes filled.
“But yes.”
The word struck harder than any bullet.
“He went over the ridge.”
Cora stopped breathing.
“Accidents happen.”
Boon moved.
Pike turned.
A shot cracked.
His rifle flew from his hands.
Boon stood twenty yards away.
He had shot the weapon, not the man.
“Next one,” Boon said quietly, “won’t be the rifle.”
Pike ran.
He disappeared into the trees.
Boon started after him.
Cora said, “No.”
He stopped.
She looked toward Thomas.
“Get the boy.”
Pike could wait.
Truth could not.
Marcus untied himself.
Then he looked at Cora.
“I’m sorry.”
She stared toward the dark ridge where Pike had vanished.
For eleven months, she had wondered if Caleb’s last moment had been lonely.
Now she knew.
It had been violent.
Unfair.
And caused by a man protecting stolen land.
Cora did not cry.
Not then.
She simply said:
“We go to Helena tomorrow.”
But behind them, Marcus shook his head.
“We can’t.”
Boon turned.
“Why?”
Marcus swallowed.
“Because Hyram already sent word to your uncle.”
“What word?”
“That you murdered Owen Pike.”
Boon stared.
Marcus continued.
“And Charles Tagot is coming to Black Pine with territorial officers to arrest you.”
May you like
The fight for the valley had just become a fight to keep Boon out of prison.
---
