Chapter 2 - The Lanterns Coming Up the Hill
Silas extinguished the lamp beside the window.
“Back room.”
Mian didn't move.
“Now.”
Something in his voice convinced her.
She hurried toward the small bedroom with Luli pressed against her chest.
Atseli remained.
Silas turned.
“You too.”
“I can help.”
“With what?”
Her eyes dropped toward his rifle.
Silas shook his head.
“No.”
“I know these men.”
“Which is exactly why you're going inside.”
The hoofbeats grew louder.
Atseli caught his wrist.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
Her eyes went toward the approaching lights.
“The man who uses that mark buys people.”
Silas stared at her.
“What?”
“Workers. Women. Children. Anyone nobody will search for.”
Silas's grip tightened around the rifle.
Atseli continued rapidly.
“We escaped.”
“From him?”
“Yes.”
“And Mian?”
Atseli nodded.
The first rider reached the fence.
Silas pushed Atseli toward the bedroom.
“Lock it.”
“What will you do?”
Silas looked toward the door.
“Find out whether our visitors understand the meaning of private property.”
Atseli disappeared.
Silas stepped onto the porch.
Three riders stopped in the yard.
The leader was a heavy man wearing a buffalo coat. A pale scar divided his left eyebrow.
Silas recognized him.
Caleb Voss.
Voss owned a freight company outside Rattler Creek.
At least that was what respectable people called it.
Silas had heard other stories.
Men disappearing after disputes.
Immigrant laborers working debts that somehow never decreased.
Apache families driven from land near the southern ridge.
But stories were not evidence.
Tonight, Silas suspected he was about to acquire some.
“Ward,” Voss called pleasantly.
“Voss.”
“We're looking for two women.”
Silas leaned against the porch post.
“Lose your wives?”
One rider laughed.
Voss did not.
“Chinese girl. Apache woman.”
“Women.”
“What?”
“You called one a girl.”
Voss's smile thinned.
“They stole from me.”
“What?”
“Money.”
“How much?”
Voss paused.
Silas noticed.
“A hundred dollars.”
“Exactly?”
“Approximately.”
“You don't know how much they stole?”
Voss's expression hardened.
“Are they here?”
Silas looked at the other riders.
Both had revolvers.
One rested his hand casually near his holster.
Silas lifted the rifle slightly.
The hand moved away.
“No.”
Voss looked toward the cabin.
“You mind if we check?”
“Yes.”
“This doesn't concern you.”
“Funny. You're standing on my land in the middle of the night. Feels like it concerns me.”
Voss dismounted.
Silas raised the rifle.
“Stay there.”
Voss stopped.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Voss smiled.
“You always were strange, Ward.”
“So I've heard.”
“Town thinks you've gone crazy since Anna died.”
Silas's eyes changed.
Voss saw it.
Perhaps he realized too late that he had chosen the wrong name.
Silas descended one porch step.
“Leave.”
Voss's smile disappeared.
“These women aren't worth dying over.”
Silas answered quietly.
“Then you shouldn't.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Finally Voss mounted.
“This isn't finished.”
“It is tonight.”
The riders turned.
Silas watched their lanterns disappear.
Only when the hoofbeats vanished did he lower the rifle.
Behind him, the door opened.
Atseli stepped out.
“He returns.”
“I know.”
“With more men.”
“Probably.”
Mian appeared behind her.
Her face was wet with tears.
Silas looked between them.
“Tomorrow morning, you're telling me everything.”
Neither woman answered.
Silas's voice hardened.
“I put myself between you and three armed men. I deserve to know why.”
Mian nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
But morning brought another surprise.
Sheriff Boon arrived before breakfast.
He entered without removing his coat.
“Voss came to see me.”
Silas poured coffee.
“I'm touched.”
“He says you're harboring thieves.”
“Did he mention arriving here with armed men?”
“He called them employees.”
Silas handed Boon a cup.
“They were armed employees.”
Boon ignored the coffee.
“He has papers.”
“What papers?”
“Contracts.”
Atseli appeared in the doorway.
“What contracts?”
Boon looked uncomfortable.
“Employment debts.”
Mian went pale.
Silas noticed.
“What's wrong?”
Mian slowly sat.
“He made us sign.”
“What?”
“Paper.”
“Could you read it?”
She shook her head.
“No English.”
Boon cursed quietly.
Mian began telling them everything.
Months earlier, she had arrived in California believing she had secured domestic work.
Her husband, Jian, had died during the journey east after becoming sick.
She had been pregnant.
With no money and nowhere to go, she accepted transportation from men working for Voss.
They promised employment.
Instead, every meal, every night's shelter and every mile traveled became debt.
By the time Luli was born, Mian supposedly owed more money than she could earn in ten years.
Atseli's story was different but ended in the same place.
Her family's winter camp had been destroyed after a dispute over land.
Separated from relatives and carrying an infant, she accepted work preparing food at one of Voss's freight camps.
Soon she discovered workers were not permitted to leave until fabricated debts were repaid.
“Why didn't you go to the sheriff?” Silas asked.
Atseli looked at Boon.
“No offense.”
Boon grimaced.
“None taken.”
“We did not know which law belonged to Voss.”
That sentence silenced everyone.
Silas understood perfectly.
A lawman might wear a badge.
A criminal might own the lawman's brother's mortgage.
How was a stranger supposed to know the difference?
Boon finally sat.
“Did Voss hurt either of you?”
Mian's eyes dropped.
Atseli answered.
“He hurt people.”
“Can you prove it?”
Atseli looked at Mian.
Mian slowly reached beneath her dress and removed a small cloth pouch.
Inside was a ledger page.
Boon unfolded it.
Names.
Numbers.
Payments.
Beside several names appeared one word.
TRANSFERRED.
Boon's expression changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“Voss office,” Mian said.
“You stole it?”
“I took proof.”
Silas almost smiled.
Voss had been truthful about one thing.
She had stolen something.
Just not money.
Boon folded the paper carefully.
“This could matter.”
“Could?” Silas said.
“If I can connect it to something.”
“People being held against their will isn't enough?”
“In court, suspicion isn't enough.”
Silas slammed his cup down.
Boon leaned closer.
“You think I like this?”
“No.”
“Then don't make my job harder.”
Silas stared at him.
Boon continued.
“Voss has friends.”
“So?”
“So half this town owes him money.”
That explained more than Silas wanted it to.
The freight company financed farms.
Supplied stores.
Paid seasonal workers.
Voss wasn't simply a businessman.
He had built a web.
And frightened people protected the web that fed them.
Boon stood.
“I'll investigate.”
Silas laughed without humor.
“And meanwhile?”
“Keep them here.”
Mian stared at him.
Boon looked toward her.
“Right now Ward Ranch may be the safest place in the county.”
Atseli glanced through the window.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
She pointed.
On the distant ridge stood a rider.
Watching.
Silas stepped outside.
The rider immediately disappeared.
That afternoon, Silas moved the livestock closer to the cabin.
He checked every window.
Loaded ammunition.
Atseli helped reinforce the barn doors.
Mian prepared food.
Nobody said aloud what they were preparing for.
At sunset, Silas found Atseli behind the cabin.
She stood before Anna's grave.
“You loved her,” Atseli said.
Silas stopped beside her.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
He nearly told her it was none of her concern.
Instead he said, “Childbirth.”
“And child?”
Silas looked toward the smaller grave.
“Her too.”
Atseli closed her eyes briefly.
“I am sorry.”
Silas nodded.
After a moment, Atseli said, “That is why you opened door.”
Silas looked at her.
“No.”
“You saw babies.”
“I would have helped anyone.”
Atseli gave him a knowing look.
Silas sighed.
“Maybe.”
For the first time, he admitted something he had refused to consider.
Perhaps Anna had not vanished completely.
Perhaps every decent thing he still did was a piece of her refusing to die.
Night fell.
Nothing happened.
The following day was equally quiet.
Then came Sunday.
Silas rode into town alone.
He entered church halfway through the service.
Every head turned.
Reverend Pike stopped speaking.
Silas took a seat.
Mrs. Ardell whispered to the woman beside her.
After the sermon, Reverend Pike approached.
“We need to talk.”
“About?”
“The women.”
Silas looked around.
Nearly everyone remained.
It was not a conversation.
It was an ambush.
Caleb Voss stood near the back.
Silas understood.
Reverend Pike cleared his throat.
“People are concerned.”
“People always are.”
“Silas.”
The minister lowered his voice.
“This community has survived because we trust one another.”
Silas looked directly at Voss.
“Some of you trust the wrong people.”
Murmurs filled the church.
Voss stepped forward.
“Those women stole from me.”
Mian's ledger page remained with Sheriff Boon.
Silas couldn't reveal it.
Not yet.
So he said only, “Prove it.”
“I have contracts.”
“With women who couldn't read them.”
“They signed.”
“That doesn't make slavery legal.”
The room went silent.
Voss's face reddened.
“You'd better be careful with that word.”
“Why? Does it sound familiar?”
Reverend Pike intervened.
“Enough.”
Silas turned toward the congregation.
“You want to know what happened?”
Nobody answered.
“They knocked on three doors before mine.”
Several people looked down.
“They had two infants.”
Mrs. Ardell stiffened.
Silas continued.
“Five days without food. Babies in their arms. And three Christian families shut their doors.”
“That isn't fair,” someone said.
Silas turned.
“Neither is starving.”
A farmer stood.
“You'll bring violence here.”
“No. Voss will.”
Every eye shifted toward Caleb.
His face became cold.
Silas walked toward the door.
Voss spoke behind him.
“Your wife would be ashamed of what you've become.”
Silas stopped.
The room froze.
He turned slowly.
“No, Caleb.”
His voice was quiet.
“Anna would be ashamed I waited this long to become it.”
Silas walked out.
That evening, when he reached his ranch, he smelled smoke.
His heart stopped.
He kicked his horse into a gallop.
Orange light flickered beyond the trees.
“MIAN!”
He rounded the bend.
The barn was burning.
Atseli ran from the cabin carrying Kai.
Mian stood outside with Luli.
“Silas!”
He jumped from the horse.
“Everyone safe?”
“Yes!”
A scream came from the barn.
Not human.
Horses.
Silas ran toward the flames.
Atseli grabbed him.
“No!”
“My horses!”
The roof was already catching.
Silas tore free.
He wrapped his coat around his face and plunged inside.
Smoke swallowed him.
He opened the first stall.
A terrified mare bolted past.
Second stall.
Another horse.
Then something cracked overhead.
Silas looked up.
A burning beam fell.
He jumped aside.
Outside, Mian screamed his name.
Silas reached the final stall.
His oldest gelding, Buck, kicked wildly.
“Easy!”
The horse would not move.
Smoke filled Silas's lungs.
He grabbed the halter.
“Come on!”
The roof groaned.
Silas pulled.
Buck finally lunged forward.
They escaped seconds before part of the roof collapsed.
Silas fell into the snow.
Atseli ran to him.
Mian dropped beside them.
“You fool!” Atseli shouted.
Silas coughed.
“Horse would've died.”
“You almost died!”
Silas looked toward Buck.
“Didn't.”
Then he saw something in the snow.
A bottle.
Broken.
The cloth stuffed into its neck was still burning.
Silas picked it up.
Kerosene.
This was no accident.
Atseli looked toward the flames.
“I told you.”
Silas's face hardened.
“They test kindness first.”
She nodded.
“Then fear.”
Behind them, the barn roof collapsed in a shower of sparks.
Silas stared into the fire.
Atseli finished the sentence.
“Then fire.”
But none of them noticed the small figure watching from the tree line.
A boy.
May you like
And the boy had seen exactly who lit the match.
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