Chapter 4 - Footprints Outside the Window
Jonah Price woke ten minutes later beside the stove.
Clara had wanted to leave immediately.
Caleb refused.
“A man freezes to death in minutes in weather like this.”
“And if Rusk comes back?”
“We move him.”
“To where?”
“Mercy Ridge.”
“With us?”
“Yes.”
Clara stared at him.
“You collect endangered people everywhere you go?”
“Apparently.”
Under any other circumstance she might have laughed.
Instead she knelt beside Jonah.
The telegraph operator was fifty-six and normally looked ten years older. Today he looked eighty.
His lips were cracked.
A bruise darkened one side of his face, but there was no serious bleeding.
Clara gave him warm water.
“Who told Vale about us?”
Jonah’s eyes opened.
“Careful.”
“Of what?”
“Names.”
Caleb crouched.
“Jonah.”
Recognition returned slowly.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot.”
“Vale has men everywhere.”
“Who told him Clara came north?”
Jonah swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened.
“You rode twenty miles through a blizzard to tell us you don’t know?”
“I rode here to tell you something else.”
Jonah reached inside his coat.
Caleb immediately helped him.
A folded telegram appeared.
The paper was damp.
Jonah handed it to Clara.
She read.
TRANSFER PRISONER FROM LOWER MILL BEFORE DAWN. NO FURTHER DELAY. S.V.
Clara frowned.
“What prisoner?”
Jonah closed his eyes.
“That’s the question that got me hit.”
Caleb took the telegram.
“Where did this come from?”
“Vale’s office.”
“You read a private wire?”
“I transmit every message that crosses Mercy Ridge.”
“Who was it sent to?”
“Foreman at Black Pine.”
Caleb stared toward the window.
The mill again.
Matthew’s letter.
Look beneath the old Black Pine mill.
Now a prisoner was being transferred from the same location.
Clara saw the thought form on Caleb’s face.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“No what?”
“You’re thinking about going there.”
“I’m thinking about everything.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Jonah suddenly gripped Clara’s hand.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Vale is coming himself.”
Caleb stiffened.
“To the mill?”
“To Mercy Ridge.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Why?”
Jonah laughed weakly.
“Probably because you’re still alive.”
Caleb ignored that.
Silas Vale rarely left Black Pine.
For him to travel during a storm meant whatever was happening had become urgent.
Jonah’s eyes shifted to Eli and June.
The children sat together near the table.
“Thomas’s children?”
Clara nodded.
Sadness crossed Jonah’s face.
“Good Lord.”
Eli immediately stood.
“You knew my papa?”
“Yes.”
“Is he the prisoner?”
Silence.
Clara’s chest tightened.
“Eli.”
“What?”
“You don’t know that.”
“But it could be.”
Jonah looked at Caleb.
Caleb shook his head slightly.
Too late.
Eli stepped closer.
“My papa could be alive?”
Clara knelt.
“We don’t know who the telegram means.”
“You told me Papa was probably dead.”
“I told you what I believed.”
“But you were wrong?”
She could not answer.
Eli’s face changed.
Hope was crueler than grief sometimes.
Grief eventually became familiar.
Hope tore old wounds open.
Caleb stood.
“We leave in five minutes.”
Clara looked up.
“For Mercy Ridge?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“Old survey cabin above Pine Hollow.”
“That’s west.”
“Exactly.”
“You said we had to go south.”
“That was before Jonah told me Vale is traveling.”
Caleb looked toward the window.
“He’ll expect us to run for Mercy Ridge.”
“You want to hide?”
“For one night.”
“And tomorrow?”
“We decide after we read everything Thomas left in this ledger.”
Clara wanted to argue.
Then June spoke.
“Clara.”
Her voice was very small.
“What is it?”
The girl was staring toward the window.
“There’s a man.”
Everyone froze.
Caleb moved instantly.
He approached from the side rather than standing directly in view.
Outside, snow swept past the glass.
Nothing.
Then a shadow crossed between two trees.
Caleb’s hand tightened.
Clara whispered, “Rusk?”
“No.”
“How can you tell?”
“Too careful.”
He moved toward the rear wall.
Another shadow appeared.
Then vanished.
Someone had remained behind when Rusk left.
A scout.
Caleb lowered his voice.
“Lantern out.”
Clara extinguished it.
Only stove light remained.
Caleb moved Jonah toward the root cellar.
The older man protested.
“You’ll kill yourself carrying me.”
“Then try walking.”
“I liked you better when you worked for Vale.”
“You hated me.”
“Exactly.”
Despite the danger, Clara felt a tiny absurd smile rise.
Caleb noticed.
For half a second their eyes met.
Then a floorboard creaked outside.
No one breathed.
Footsteps moved beneath the window.
Slow.
Measured.
The children crouched near Clara.
A hand touched the door latch.
Caleb positioned himself beside the wall.
The latch moved.
But the door did not open.
The stranger waited.
Testing.
Listening.
Then a voice called softly.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
Clara recognized it.
Deputy Warren.
Mercy Ridge’s deputy sheriff.
She almost moved.
Caleb grabbed her shoulder.
“Don’t.”
“But I know him.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Deputy Warren knocked.
“Clara? Sheriff Bell sent me.”
She looked at Jonah.
The telegraph operator’s face filled with alarm.
He shook his head violently.
Caleb whispered, “There’s your answer.”
Clara’s stomach turned.
Deputy Warren had helped her once.
Six months earlier, when June developed fever, Warren had delivered medicine from town.
He had eaten at their table.
He had bounced Eli on a knee while telling ridiculous stories about hunting bears.
Someone you trust.
Clara suddenly understood.
Warren had known where they lived.
She had told him.
Not because she trusted the county.
Because he had seemed kind.
Caleb leaned toward the door.
“What does Sheriff Bell want?”
A pause.
Then Warren answered.
“Caleb?”
“Disappointed?”
“Open the door.”
“No.”
“I’m here to help.”
“No, you aren’t.”
Warren’s friendly tone vanished.
“You don’t understand what you’re involved in.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Vale only wants his property.”
“The ledger?”
Silence.
Caleb looked at Clara.
Confirmation.
Warren finally spoke.
“Give it to me.”
Caleb smiled without humor.
“You should have kept pretending you didn’t know about it.”
“Reed—”
“You just answered a useful question.”
A gunshot cracked outside.
The window shattered.
Clara pulled the children down.
Caleb kicked the stove door shut as sparks jumped.
“Cellar!”
They moved.
Another shot struck the wall.
No one was hit.
Caleb guided Jonah down first.
Clara pushed June and Eli toward the tunnel.
“Go!”
Caleb followed last.
Before closing the hatch, he threw several blankets across the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying confusion.”
They crawled through darkness.
Behind them, the cabin door broke open.
Voices filled the room.
June started crying silently.
Clara held her hand.
Caleb pushed from behind.
They reached the outside opening.
Night had fallen.
The storm had intensified.
Snow made visibility almost impossible.
Perfect.
Caleb pulled Jonah onto the sled.
“Stay close.”
They moved into the trees.
For twenty minutes nobody spoke.
Then Eli stumbled.
Clara caught him.
Caleb stopped.
“We need to rest.”
“No,” Clara said. “They’ll follow.”
“Not immediately.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I left tracks heading north before entering the tunnel.”
“You planned that?”
“I plan most things.”
“Except eight riders instead of six.”
He gave her a look.
“Are you going to mention that forever?”
“If we live that long.”
Jonah laughed weakly from the sled.
Caleb almost smiled.
Then June looked back.
“Someone’s coming.”
Caleb turned.
Nothing visible.
But beneath the wind came something faint.
A dog barking.
Caleb’s expression hardened.
“They brought trackers.”
Clara stared.
“What do we do?”
He looked at the snow-covered slope beneath them.
Then at the frozen creek in the valley.
“There’s one way to break the scent.”
“You already said the creek is unsafe.”
“It is.”
“Then that isn’t a plan.”
“No.”
Caleb tightened the rope around the sled.
“It’s a choice between two bad plans.”
He started downhill.
Clara followed.
The barking grew louder.
When they reached the creek, Caleb tested the ice.
Cracks spread beneath his boot.
Clara stared.
“You cannot take children across that.”
“We don’t cross.”
“What?”
Caleb pointed upstream.
“We walk along it.”
“On the ice?”
“Near the bank.”
“That still sounds insane.”
“It is.”
Behind them, another bark came closer.
Then a man shouted.
They had minutes.
Caleb looked at Clara.
“Trust me.”
She stared at him.
Twenty-four hours earlier, she had not known whether Caleb Reed was alive.
One hour earlier, she had learned he had once worked for the man hunting them.
Ten minutes earlier, someone she had trusted had shot through her window.
Trust seemed like the most expensive thing in the world.
But Eli was watching her.
June was shivering.
Jonah could barely stand.
Clara took a breath.
“All right.”
Caleb nodded.
They stepped onto the frozen edge of the creek.
Behind them, the dogs kept barking.
May you like
And somewhere in the dark, Deputy Warren began following their footprints toward the ice.
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