Chapter 15 - The Secret Gideon Could No Longer Hide
Hattie read the letter beneath trembling lantern light.
Gideon,
If you find this, then you returned to the place I begged you never to visit again.
She glanced at him.
His face was unreadable.
She continued.
I know why you refused to take me down the eastern trail. I heard the doctor warn you months ago that your old leg injury might fail if you crossed ice again.
Hattie looked up sharply.
“Leg injury?”
Gideon stared at the ground.
“You never told me.”
“It healed.”
“Apparently not.”
He said nothing.
Hattie returned to the letter.
You thought I was asleep when Dr. Bell told you another bad fall might leave you unable to walk. You refused to frighten me. I refused to tell you that I knew. We were both fools.
Hattie almost laughed despite the situation.
Mary understood them.
Both of them.
When I became sick, you refused the eastern pass because it was ice. I was angry. I believed fear had made you stubborn. Only later did I realize you were deciding between risking my fever and risking the fall that might leave us both stranded.
Hattie’s eyes filled.
Gideon whispered, “I should have gone.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Read.”
She continued.
If I die, do not tell yourself you chose your safety over me. You spent every day choosing me. One impossible decision does not erase a marriage.
Gideon turned away.
Hattie followed him.
“Look at me.”
He did not.
“Gideon.”
Finally he turned.
She held the letter against his chest.
“Mary knew.”
His eyes shone.
“She understood.”
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t let yourself.”
Red laughed bitterly from across the chamber.
“You two finished?”
Hattie spun.
Mercer said, “Lawson, I would suggest silence.”
Red paced.
“We’re buried alive and they’re reading love letters.”
Gideon folded Mary’s letter carefully.
“She mentioned an exit.”
Hattie frowned.
“Where?”
He took the map.
The old lines suddenly made sense.
One branch ended near the northern ridge.
Gideon lifted the lantern.
“This way.”
They traveled deeper.
Gideon’s leg began bothering him.
Hattie noticed immediately.
“You’re limping.”
“I’m fine.”
“Stop saying that.”
He gave her a tired look.
She put his arm over her shoulders.
“I can walk.”
“So can I.”
“Hattie.”
“Chosen to survive, remember?”
Despite everything, he smiled.
They continued together.
Red moved ahead impatiently.
Mercer stayed near the injured prospector.
Eventually they heard wind.
Faint.
Real.
Everyone stopped.
“Air,” Hattie whispered.
They followed.
The tunnel narrowed into a crack.
Moonlight appeared.
Red laughed.
Freedom.
But the opening was small.
Rock had collapsed around it.
They began clearing debris.
Hours passed.
Hands bled.
Muscles shook.
Hattie’s wounded arm reopened slightly.
Gideon saw.
“Stop.”
“No.”
“You’ll tear the stitches.”
“Then you can redo them.”
He glared.
She continued digging.
Eventually the hole became large enough.
The smallest man crawled through first.
Then Mercer.
Hattie followed.
Cold night air struck her face.
Never had cold felt so good.
Gideon emerged next.
Red came last.
The moment his boots touched snow, he ran.
Mercer shouted.
“Lawson!”
Gideon started after him.
Hattie grabbed his arm.
“Let him.”
“He’ll escape.”
“Where?”
They stood on a narrow ridge.
Miles of snow surrounded them.
Red had no horse.
No supplies.
No weapon.
Gideon understood.
They walked toward lower ground.
At dawn they found Red curled beneath a pine tree, nearly frozen.
Hattie stared.
Months earlier she might have wanted revenge.
Now she saw something smaller.
A man consumed by greed until nothing remained.
Gideon approached.
Red looked up weakly.
“You going to leave me?”
Gideon hesitated.
Hattie knew what choice he faced.
Mary’s death.
The man at Fort Laramie.
Every mistake.
Every regret.
Gideon removed his coat and threw it over Red.
“No.”
Red looked shocked.
They carried him back.
It took two days to reach town.
Marshal Crowe received Red without comment.
This time the jail cell had additional guards.
The evidence went to Denver.
Investors began arriving.
Lawyers followed.
So did newspaper men.
For weeks, the story of Red Lawson’s false mine spread across Colorado.
But Hattie wanted no part of fame.
She wanted home.
Before returning, she sold the Philadelphia property Horace had given her.
Half the money went toward settling the final debts from her father’s business.
The rest she kept.
Not because Gideon needed it.
Because she had learned one lesson clearly.
A woman should have money in her own name.
Gideon agreed immediately.
That made her love him more.
On the final evening in town, Loretta visited.
She carried a suitcase.
Hattie looked at it.
“I left him.”
No explanation needed.
Hattie hugged her.
“Where will you go?”
“Denver. My sister lives there.”
“Good.”
Loretta smiled nervously.
“I’m terrified.”
“You can be terrified and still leave.”
Loretta nodded.
Before they separated, she said, “You know what I thought when Gideon chose you?”
Hattie smiled.
“I suspect I remember.”
“I thought you were unlucky.”
Hattie glanced toward Gideon.
He stood beside the horses.
Waiting.
Loretta smiled.
“I was wrong.”
Hattie squeezed her hand.
“So was I.”
Then she mounted.
She and Gideon rode toward Dead Man’s Peak.
Toward the cabin.
Toward spring.
But Gideon had one final truth left.
And he intended to tell Hattie before asking the question that had terrified him more than any blizzard.
May you like
Whether she would choose him again now that survival no longer required marriage.
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