Chapter 6 - The Stranger in the Blizzard
Three days passed without another sign of Red Lawson.
Hattie began to hope he had gone.
Gideon did not.
He slept lightly.
Checked the windows repeatedly.
Carried his revolver whenever he went outside.
Hattie hated the weapon.
Not because she was naïve about violence.
She had grown up around cleavers, knives, livestock, and men who occasionally settled arguments with fists.
But the presence of the gun changed the cabin.
It made every noise sound like a warning.
The blizzard arrived on the fourth afternoon.
The sky turned gray before noon.
By two o’clock, wind shook the walls.
Gideon stood beside the window.
“Mules.”
Hattie looked up.
“What?”
“I need to move them into the lower shelter.”
“Now?”
“If the roof on the outer shed gives way, they’ll die.”
“I’ll help.”
“No.”
Hattie’s expression hardened.
Gideon raised both hands.
“Not because you can’t.”
“Good beginning.”
“One person can move faster.”
She considered.
“All right.”
He pulled on his coat.
At the door, Hattie stopped him.
“Gideon.”
He turned.
“Be careful.”
His expression softened.
“I will.”
Then he was gone.
Hattie watched his shape disappear almost immediately.
Snow swallowed everything.
She secured the door.
Checked the fire.
Then began moving additional wood inside.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
A violent gust slammed against the cabin.
Hattie heard something crack outside.
She went to the window.
Nothing visible.
Then the front door shuddered.
She frowned.
Another impact.
Not wind.
Someone was hitting it.
“Hattie!”
Red.
She backed away.
“Hattie, open the door!”
She did not.
A shot exploded.
The lock splintered.
The door flew inward.
Snow rushed across the floor.
Red Lawson stumbled inside with a Winchester.
He looked half frozen.
Wild-eyed.
Desperate.
Hattie grabbed the iron skillet beside the hearth.
Red raised the rifle.
“Don’t.”
Hattie froze.
“Close the door.”
He kicked it shut.
The cabin became strangely quiet again.
Only the wind outside.
Red’s coat was covered with snow.
His beard glittered with ice.
“What do you want?”
“You know.”
“I actually don’t. Gideon still hasn’t developed the habit of explaining everything.”
“The map.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Where is Hayes?”
“Tending the mules.”
Red glanced toward the window.
Then moved closer.
“Where did he hide it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie.”
Hattie tightened her grip.
“If I knew where Gideon hid every object in this cabin, I would have found his missing hammer before he did.”
Red’s mouth twisted.
“This funny to you?”
“No.”
He aimed the rifle more directly.
“Search.”
“What?”
“Mary’s room.”
“You know which room is hers?”
Red ignored the question.
“Move.”
Hattie went.
Her mind worked quickly.
Gideon had moved the map.
Where?
He had not told her.
Good.
For once his secrecy might help.
Red tore through Mary’s room.
Blankets.
Drawers.
Books.
The chest.
Nothing.
His desperation grew.
“Where is it?”
“I told you.”
He grabbed Hattie’s arm.
She looked down at his hand.
Then at him.
“Take your hand off me.”
Red laughed.
“I heard Hayes married a big one. Didn’t know he married a bear.”
Hattie’s humiliation no longer burned the way it once had.
She smiled coldly.
“That should worry you.”
He yanked her forward.
Hattie barely moved.
Red blinked.
She planted her feet.
Years of lifting sides of beef had given her balance men rarely expected.
Red pulled again.
Nothing.
His face changed.
Hattie saw the moment confidence became uncertainty.
She swung the skillet.
Red ducked.
The edge struck his shoulder.
He cursed.
The rifle fired.
Pain exploded through Hattie’s upper arm.
She gasped.
For a second the room tilted.
Red stared too.
Neither had expected the discharge.
Hattie looked down.
Her sleeve was torn.
Blood spread through the fabric.
Fear arrived.
Then anger drowned it.
Red reached for her again.
Hattie charged.
Her shoulder struck his chest.
His back hit the dining table.
Wood cracked.
They crashed through it together.
Red lost the rifle.
Hattie landed hard.
Pain tore through her arm.
She nearly blacked out.
Red shoved her aside.
Reached for his belt.
Knife.
Hattie saw the movement.
She grabbed the fireplace poker from beside the fallen chair.
Red came at her.
Hattie swung low.
The poker struck his wrist.
The knife fell.
She threw herself forward.
Her full weight drove him onto his back.
Red grunted.
Hattie pinned his wrist beneath both hands.
Her injured arm screamed.
She ignored it.
Red tried to buck her off.
Hattie lowered her weight.
Nothing.
His eyes widened.
She pressed the poker across his upper chest.
“Stop.”
He cursed.
Hattie leaned closer.
“I’m a butcher’s daughter.”
Red froze.
“I have handled hogs meaner than you.”
Despite everything, Red laughed.
Then the cabin door opened.
Cold air flooded the room.
Gideon stood there.
His revolver was drawn.
For one endless second nobody moved.
Gideon’s face drained of color when he saw Hattie’s bloody sleeve.
His gaze dropped to Red.
To the broken table.
To Hattie sitting firmly on the man’s chest.
“Hattie.”
“I’m all right.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
Gideon moved forward.
Red suddenly smiled.
“Perfect.”
Gideon stopped.
Red turned his head slightly.
“Tell her.”
Hattie’s grip tightened.
Gideon’s expression changed.
“Shut up.”
Red’s smile widened.
“Tell her what happened to Mary.”
Hattie looked toward Gideon.
The room seemed to shrink.
“Gideon?”
“Don’t listen to him.”
“Ask him why she was afraid.”
Red spoke louder.
“Ask him why he waited three days before taking her down the mountain.”
Gideon’s face went white.
Hattie stopped breathing.
Three days.
Red saw her reaction.
“Ask him why she begged to leave.”
“Shut up!”
It was the first time Hattie had heard Gideon shout.
Red laughed.
“She wanted town. He said she could handle one more night.”
Gideon looked broken.
Hattie’s heart began pounding.
“Is that true?”
His silence was worse than any answer.
“Gideon.”
“Yes.”
One word.
Barely audible.
The storm screamed outside.
Hattie stared at the man she had begun trusting.
“She wanted to leave?”
“Yes.”
“And you refused?”
“I thought—”
“You thought what?”
“That the fever would break.”
Red smiled beneath her.
Hattie barely noticed him now.
Gideon lowered the revolver.
“I was wrong.”
The grief in his face was devastating.
But Hattie needed truth.
“All of it,” she said.
Gideon swallowed.
“Hattie.”
“All of it.”
Before he could answer, Red whispered beneath her.
“There’s more.”
She looked down.
His eyes were bright with triumph.
“Mary wrote everything down.”
Gideon’s head snapped toward him.
Red smiled.
May you like
“And I know where she hid it.”
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