Chapter 11 - The Storm That Closed the Pass
Sheriff Pike could use Rutherford’s admissions.
But not all of them.
“He admitted knowledge of the forged document,” Pike explained. “He admitted hiding circumstances surrounding Isaac’s death. That matters.”
“And the shooting?” Caleb asked.
“No admission.”
“The saddles?”
“No.”
“Ames?”
“We need him.”
Eleanor folded her arms.
“Then find him.”
Pike gave her a tired look.
“I have people searching.”
Ames was found two days later.
Dead?
No.
Drunk in a boardinghouse eighty miles south.
Alive enough to create problems.
Pike arranged transport.
Then winter intervened.
A storm hit Silver Hollow harder than anyone expected.
The mountain pass closed.
Telegraph lines snapped.
Roads disappeared.
For six days, nobody entered or left.
Caleb and Eleanor were trapped in town because North Slope became unreachable.
Margaret gave them the room above the tavern.
“One bed,” Eleanor said.
Margaret smiled.
“You’re married.”
Caleb nearly choked.
Eleanor gave Margaret a warning look.
The older woman laughed and left.
Caleb stared at the bed.
“I can sleep on the floor.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“We’ve discussed this.”
“That was the cabin.”
“And?”
“And this room is smaller.”
Eleanor removed her coat.
“Are you frightened?”
“No.”
“Then stop behaving like the bed is loaded.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“You make everything difficult.”
“No. I make simple things impossible to avoid.”
He looked at her.
That night they lay on opposite sides.
Fully dressed except boots.
A ridiculous amount of space between them.
Eleanor stared at the ceiling.
Caleb stared at the wall.
Finally she said, “This is absurd.”
“Yes.”
“You agree?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Neither moved.
She laughed.
Caleb did too.
Then silence.
“Eleanor.”
“Yes?”
“What happens in March?”
There it was.
No Rutherford.
No investigation.
No distraction.
She swallowed.
“The contract ends.”
“I know.”
“You pay me.”
“I know.”
“I leave.”
Caleb turned toward her.
“Do you want to?”
Eleanor’s throat tightened.
“Do you?”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“You first.”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly she stopped breathing.
Caleb continued.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
The room became impossibly quiet.
Eleanor turned toward him.
“Why?”
His expression almost broke her.
“Do you really need me to say it?”
“Yes.”
He stared at the ceiling.
“I love waking up and knowing you’re there.”
She said nothing.
“I love that you argue with everything.”
“That doesn’t sound romantic.”
“Let me finish.”
She closed her mouth.
“I love that the cabin changed because you entered it. That you remember how much coffee I drink. That you leave the heavier firewood near the door because you know my shoulder aches when weather changes.”
Eleanor stared.
He knew she did that.
Caleb continued.
“I love that you aren’t impressed by me.”
“That part is easy.”
He smiled.
Then the smile faded.
“I love that when I’m angry, you don’t become afraid. You become more annoying.”
“Caleb.”
“I told you.”
“Poorly.”
“It’s my first time.”
Her eyes burned.
He turned fully toward her.
“I don’t know what happens in March.”
Eleanor whispered, “Neither do I.”
“But I know I don’t want this to end because paper says it should.”
She reached across the bed.
Took his hand.
“Then maybe we stop allowing paper to decide everything.”
He looked at her.
“Is that a yes?”
“To what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She smiled through tears.
“Then ask me when you do.”
Caleb kissed her.
No hesitation this time.
Still gentle.
Still asking without words.
Eleanor moved closer.
Outside, wind shook the windows.
Inside, the contract lost another piece of its power.
Morning brought reality.
Sheriff Pike knocked before breakfast.
“Pass might open tomorrow.”
“Good,” Caleb said.
“Maybe not.”
“What happened?”
Pike stepped inside.
“Ames escaped.”
Eleanor stared.
“How?”
“The deputy transporting him stopped when the storm closed the road. Ames stole a horse.”
“Where would he go?”
Pike looked toward the mountain.
“That’s what worries me.”
Caleb’s face changed.
“North Slope.”
Eleanor stood.
“Why?”
“Evidence.”
The hidden letters.
Mineral survey.
Forged amendment.
All stored at the cabin.
Caleb grabbed his coat.
Pike blocked the door.
“You’re not crossing the pass.”
“It’s my house.”
“It’s a death trap.”
“Pike.”
“No.”
Eleanor went to the window.
Snow still fell.
Hard.
“Is there another route?”
Both men looked at her.
Caleb answered.
“Old logging road.”
Pike cursed.
“Absolutely not.”
“How bad?” Eleanor asked.
“Abandoned ten years.”
“Passable?”
Caleb hesitated.
“With snowshoes.”
“Then we go.”
“No,” both men said.
She turned.
“We have original evidence at the cabin. If Ames reaches it first—”
“He’ll burn it,” Pike said.
Caleb looked at him.
Pike swore again.
Within an hour, four people were preparing to leave.
Caleb.
Eleanor.
Pike.
And Deputy Harris.
Margaret stood in the doorway.
“You’re all insane.”
“Probably,” Eleanor said.
The logging road was brutal.
Snow reached their knees.
Wind erased tracks within minutes.
Caleb led.
Eleanor followed.
After six hours, her legs burned.
After eight, she stopped feeling her toes.
Caleb checked her constantly.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re limping.”
“I’m married to an observant man. Tragic.”
He crouched.
“What are you doing?”
“Get on.”
“I am not riding you up a mountain.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“So are you.”
“Eleanor.”
“No.”
Pike passed them.
“She’ll argue until we freeze.”
Caleb sighed.
“Fine.”
They continued.
Darkness fell before they saw the cabin.
Smoke rose from the chimney.
Caleb stopped.
Somebody was inside.
Pike drew his revolver.
Eleanor’s pulse raced.
They approached quietly.
The front door stood open.
Inside, drawers had been emptied.
Papers covered the floor.
The metal box was gone.
Caleb searched the sleeping area.
“Forged amendment too.”
Pike examined tracks near the rear door.
“One man.”
“Ames,” Eleanor said.
Then they smelled smoke.
Not from the stove.
The barn.
Flames rose behind it.
Caleb ran.
Pike followed.
Eleanor reached the yard as Caleb released the horses.
The fire had been deliberately set near the hay.
A figure appeared at the tree line.
Walter Ames.
He held the metal box.
“Stop!” Pike shouted.
Ames ran.
Caleb started after him.
Eleanor grabbed his sleeve.
“Let Pike.”
A gunshot echoed.
Everybody froze.
Ames had fired into the air.
Pike took cover.
Caleb pulled Eleanor behind the water trough.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Minutes passed.
Pike moved.
Harris circled.
A shout came from the trees.
They had him.
Caleb exhaled.
Eleanor leaned against him.
The barn burned, but snow prevented the flames from reaching the cabin.
By midnight, Ames sat handcuffed near the stove.
The metal box rested on the table.
Pike opened it.
Most documents were intact.
Then he found something none of them had seen before.
A small brown bottle.
Doctor’s label.
September.
Isaac Morgan.
Caleb stared.
“What is that?”
Ames began to shake.
Eleanor looked at him.
“You know.”
He said nothing.
Pike held the bottle up.
“Tell me.”
Ames closed his eyes.
“Reeves gave it to him.”
“What is it?” Caleb asked.
Ames whispered one word.
Digitalis.
Eleanor did not know the medicine.
Pike did.
His face changed.
“In the wrong dose,” he said quietly, “it can stop a heart.”
May you like
Caleb turned toward Ames.
And suddenly the question of whether Isaac Morgan had died naturally was no longer a question at all.
